He Looks Like He Could Be Taken

I've Never Written Nearly As Much About Place As People Seem To Think I Do. I Just Write About Class.

He'd Discovered That His Memories Of That Summer Were Like Bad Movie Montages - Young Lovers Tossing A Frisbee In The Park, Sharing A Melting Ice-cream Cone, Bicycling Along The River, Laughing, Talking, Kissing, A Sappy Score Drowning Out The Dialogue Because The Screenwriter Had No Idea What These Two People Might Say To Each Other.

I Don't Think America Has Ever Had A Center The Way London Is The Center Of England Or Dublin Is The Center Of Ireland.

My God, He Couldn't Help Thinking, How Terrible It Is To Be That Age, To Have Emotions So Near The Surface That The Slightest Turbulence Causes Them To Boil Over. That, Very Simply, Was What Adulthood Must Be All About -- Acquiring The Skill To Bury Things More Deeply. Out Of Sight And, Whenever Possible, Out Of Mind.

My Books Are Elegiac In The Sense That They're Odes To A Nation That Even I Sometimes Think May Not Exist Anymore Except In My Memory And My Imagination.