You can anchor the mind into answering a question a certain way by giving them a totally unrelated piece of information dropped before.

That was how a Salomon bond trader thought: He forgot whatever it was that he wanted to do for a minute and put his finger on the pulse of the market. If the market felt fidgety, if people were scared or desperate, he herded them like sheep into a corner, then made them pay for their uncertainty. He sat on the market until it puked gold coins. Then he worried about what he wanted to do.

I didn't think one day something would happen that would bring me back to Wall Street to write what is essentially a sequel.

You can anchor the mind into answering a question a certain way by giving them a totally unrelated piece of information dropped before.

The inability to envision a certain kind of person doing a certain kind of thing because you've never seen someone who looks like him do it before is not just a vice. It's a luxury. What begins as a failure of the imagination ends as a market inefficiency: when you rule out an entire class of people from doing a job simply by their appearance, you are less likely to find the best person for the job.

Everything, in retrospect, is obvious. But if everything were obvious, authors of histories of financial folly would be rich . . .

Hollywood would much prefer the author be dead, so that they can buy the book and do what they want to do with it.