It took hours to turn the clock back 30 seconds.

It seems to me self-evident that if you have a life, things happen in it, and certain things do change; certain things end. People you know die.

Then she waited, with parted lips and a saucy challenge in her eyes, to see how her presence -- the drama of being her -- was registering. In the way of such chicks, she seemed convinced of the originality of her provocation.

Deploring other people--their lack of perfection--had always been our sport.

The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator.

He became another data point in the American experiment of self-government, an experiment statistically skewed from the outset, because it wasn't the people with sociable genes who fled the crowded Old World for the new continent; it was the people who didn't get along well with others.

I wanted all of her and resented other boys for wanting any part of her.