The poor live slow and hard; the rich, fast and easy. The rest of us shuffle along as we may.
A sentimental aphorism is even more a surprise than a hard- boiled sonnet.
When love ends, we cry out against destiny. When friendship ends, we cry out against our friend.
New York loves itself in an unkind and fanatical way.
Inevitably, almost everything we say is either quotation or paraphrase.
Transcendence is something between a metaphor and a miracle.