You put together two things that have not been put together before. And the world is changed.

The writer has little control over personal temperament, none over historical moment, and is only partly in charge of his or her own aesthetic.

Alice Munro can move characters through time in a way that no other writer can.

Time...give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.

Though why should we expect age to mellow us? If it isn't life's business to reward merit, why should it be life's business to give us warm comfortable feelings towards its end? What possible evolutionary purpose could nostalgia serve?

Global warming is more of a blessing than a curse.

You put together two things that have not been put together before. And the world is changed.