Brooklyn was like Philadelphia made better by its proximity to Manhattan.

Use well thy freedom.

It's doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction.

[T]o love a specific person, and to identify with his or her struggles and joys as if they were your own, you have to surrender some of your self.

...She felt that nothing could kill her hope now, nothing. She was seventy-five and she was going to make some changes in her life.

I feel that working environmentalists are, in the main, happier than armchair environmentalists.

Readers and writers are united in their need for solitude, in their pursuit of substance in a time of ever-increasing evanescence: in their reach inward, via print, for a way out of loneliness.