What he needed was to find fifty more people like him, who had stopped being themselves without realizing it.

Now that Scotty has entered the realm of myth, everyone wants to own him. And maybe they should. Doesn't a myth belong to everyone?

I wonder what Proust would have made of our present-day locus of collective fantasy, the Internet. I’m guessing he would have seized on its wistful aspect, pointing out gently and with wry humor that much of what beguiles us is the act of reaching for what isn’t there.

That adage about 'Write what you know' is basically the opposite of the way I function. I write about what I'm curious to find out.

I'm always happy," Sasha said. "Sometimes I just forget.

Americans are less selfish than some of our politicians believe and will respond with reason and resilience to passionate clarity.

No one is waiting for me. In this story, I'm the girl no one is waiting for.