I, alas, must present myself somewhat ignominiously as a chef in a busy kitchen. Somewhere a novel is bubbling on a back burner, an old attempt at history may come out of the freezer.

I saw Chungking for the first time more than 40 years ago - a city of hills and mists, of grays and lavenders, two rivers shaping it to a point and the cliff rising above me like a challenge.

With the end of the nominating process, American politics leaves logic behind.

With electricity we were wired into a new world, for electricity brought the radio, a "crystal set" and with enough ingenuity, one could tickle the crystal with a cat's whisker and pick up anything.

I happen to think that American politics is one of the noblest arts of mankind; and I cannot do anything else but write about it.

A President and his wise men can only propose; but Congress disposes. It is when President and Congress agree that American history marches forward.

If you go back through 2000 years, I guess luck, Marx, and God have made history, the three of them together.