And closed
The world is a more engaging and less dramatic place than writers ever give it credit for being
The kind of happy I was that day at the Vet when Hawk Dawson actually doffed his red C cap to me, and everyone cheered and practically convulsed into tears - you can't patent that. It was one shining...
Porque no hay una forma adecuada de planificar la vida ni tampoco de vivirla: sólo un montón de formas inadecuadas.
It's odd how our fears, the ones we didn't know we had, alter our sight line and make us see things that never were.
It was if we all sensed we'd be gone someday soon in a sudden instant--often it happened in the middle of the night--and didn't want to get involved. Or else it was that none of us wanted to know anyb...
If you lose all hope, you can always find it again.
To encounter me now at age sixty-six is to be unable to imagine me at fifteen...
If I could have married my wife and been a sports writer for the past 30 years, I wouldn't be sitting here - but I don't think I'd be sitting someplace where I was sorry to be sitting.
You survived. Whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right? I don’t, of course, believe this. Most things that don’t kill us right off, kill us later.
Nothing in the world is as hopeful as knowing a woman you like is somewhere thinking about only you. Conversely, there is no badness anywhere as acute as the badness of no woman out in the world think...
Real mystery - the very reason to read (and certainly write) any book - was to them a thing to dismantle, distill and mine out into rubble they could tyrannize into sorry but more permanent explanatio...
Then nothing was ever again as it had been. You don’t think things like that can happen. Then you find out they both can and will. So,
What’s friendship’s realest measure? I’ll tell you. The amount of precious time you’ll squander on someone else’s calamities and fuck-ups.
It's shocking to note how close we play to unwelcome realizations, and yet how our ongoing ignorance makes so much of life possible.
I thought that the difference between a successful life and an unsuccessful one, between me at that moment and all the people who owned the cars that were nosed-in to their proper places in the lot, m...
Your life doesn't mean what you have or what you get. Its what your'e willing to give up.
She was an artist. She held opposites in her mind.
Love, Henry remembered thinking then, was a lengthy series of insignificant questions whose answers you couldn’t live without.
Loneliness, I've read, is like being in a long line, waiting to reach the front where it's promised something good will happen. Only the line never moves, and other people are always coming in ahead o...