There is no shortage of wonderful writers. What we lack is a dependable mass of readers.

Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I’ve said before, bugs in amber.

And what gift of America to the rest of the world is actually most appreciated by the rest of the world? It is African American jazz and its offshoots. What is my definition of jazz? Safe sex of the highest order.

The hare of history once more overtakes the tortoise of art.

Vietnam was an exercise in mistaken idealism Iraq in cynical money-making. And there's no optimism or idealism now -- Americans are tired of knowledge. Our leaders, the C-students from Yale, know this. We're proud of being ignorant that leaves virtue at our core. We aren't frazzled by knowledge like foreigners, so we can be trusted.

You had to get everything exactly right or the editors would give you hell.

To whom it may concern: It is springtime. It is late afternoon.