prepare a little hot tea or broth and it should be brought to them . . . without their being asked if they would care for it. Those who are in great distress want no food, but if it is handed to them, they will mechanically take it ' ... There was something arresting about the matter-of-fact wisdom here, the instinctive understanding of the physiological disruptions... I will not forget the instinctive wisdom of the friend who, every day for those first few weeks, brought me a quart container of scallion-and-ginger congee from Chinatown. Congee I could eat. Congee was all I could eat.

You have to make sure you have the characters you want. That's really the most complicated part.

I always want everything read in one sitting. If they can't read it in one sitting, you're going to lose the rhythm of it. You're going to lose the shape of it.

I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be

Tuesday, September 11, 2001, dawned temperate and nearly cloudless in the eastern United States.

Mourning has its place but also its limits.

We tell ourselves stories in order to live.