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

His tiredness hurt so much it kept him awake.

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.

The world was ending then, it's ending still, and I'm happy to belong to it again.

The problem with making a virtual world of oneself is akin to the problem with projecting ourselves onto a cyberworld: there’s no end of virtual spaces in which to seek stimulation, but their very endlessness, the perpetual stimulation without satisfaction, becomes imprisoning.

...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.

When I was younger, the main struggle was to be a 'good writer.' Now I more or less take my writing abilities for granted, although this doesn't mean I always write well.