Shortridge High School was an elitist high school. In a way it was a scandal because you could go there no matter where you lived, if you could get there. It was for over-achievers. It was for people who were going to college. So we were very special and we were hated for being ritzy.

She hated people who thought too much. At that moment, she struck me as an appropriate representative for almost all mankind.

When I used to teach creative writing, I would tell the students to make their characters want something right away.

Our government's got a war on drugs. That's certainly better than no drugs at all.

This person has just arrived on this planet, knows nothing about it, has no standards by which to judge it. This person does not care what it becomes. It is eager to become absolutely anything it is supposed to be.

A lot of people were opposed to it. A lot of people were for it. I myself think about it as little as possible.

. . . hummings and clickings could be heard-the sounds attendant to the flow of electrons, now augmenting one maze of electromagnetic crises to a condition that was translatable from electrical qualities and quantities to a high grade of truth.