But it had no doubt sprung from true emotion, for all that parents ever wanted, really, was for you to love their child the way they did.

We do seem, as a culture, to fetishize the "sweep." But I know there's room for "big" short, fierce novels, and "big" solid ones.

But clearly life took people and shook them around until finally they were unrecognizable even to those who had once known them well. Still, there was power in once having known someone.

The generation that had information, but no context. Butter, but no bread. Craving, but no longing.

Being a teacher at a restaurant in the town where you lived was a little like being a TV star.

But it's never just been the journals that have made the difference, I don't think. It's also the way the students are with one another . . . the way they talk about books and authors and themselves. Not just their problems, but their passions too. The way they form a little society and discuss whatever matters to them. Books light the fire-whether it's a book that's already written, or an empty journal that needs to be filled in.

It seemed that everywhere you went, people quickly adapted to the way they had to live, and called it Life.