Old age is an excellent time for outrage. My goal is to say or do at least one outrageous thing every week.

A perfect conversation would run much less to brilliant sentences than to unfinished ones.

It is the gossip columnist's business to write about what is none of his business.

Today's competitiveness, so much imposed from without, is exhausting, not exhilarating; is unending-a part of one's social life, one's solitude, one's sleep, one's sleeplessness.

Conformity may not always reign in the prosperous bourgeois suburb, but it ultimately always governs.

The technique of winning is so shoddy, the terms of winning are so ignoble, the tenure of winning is so brief; and the specter of the has-been-a shameful rather than a pitiable sight today-brings a sudden chill even to our sunlit moments.

The trouble with our age is that it is all signpost and no destination.