I woke up thinking a very pleasant thought. There is lots left in the world to read.

Spoon the sauce over the ice cream. It will harden. This is what you have been working for.

I think I am done with Wikipedia for the time being. But I have a secret hope. Someone recently proposed a Wikimorgue - a bin of broken dreams where all rejects could still be read, as long as they weren't libelous or otherwise illegal.

I've never been a fast reader. I'm fickle; I don't finish books I start; I put a book aside for five, ten years and then take it up again.

I hadn't played any music since freshman year of college, more than thirty years ago, so I had to relearn everything. I started writing songs. Some were dance and trance songs (I listen to them a lot while I'm writing), and some were love songs, because that after all is what music is about - dancing and trancing and love and love's setbacks.

The question any novel is really trying to answer is, Is life worth living?

Updike was the first to take the penile sensorium under the wing of elaborate metaphorical prose.