Childhood Is A Branch Of Cartography.

Mr. Feld Was Right; Life Was Like Baseball, Filled With Loss And Error, With Bad Hops And Wild Pitches, A Game In Which Even Champions Lost Almost As Often As They Won, And Even The Best Hitters Were Put Out Seventy Percent Of The Time.

He Took A Step Toward Her, Than Another, Tentatively, Gathering All His Strength, As Though About To Throw A Heavy Switch That Would, If His Calculations Were Correct, Bring Light To A Hundred Cities And Ten Thousand Darkened Rooms. He Was Going To Ask Her To Dance - That Was All.

As For Comics, One Has Only To Turn To The Characteristic Output Of Marvel Comics, For The Period From About 1961 To About 1975, To Find Not An Expression Of Base And Cynical Impulses But Of Good, Old-fashioned Liberal Humanism Of A Kind That May Strike Us Today, God Help Us, As Quaint, But Which Nevertheless Appealed, In Story After Story, To Ideals Such As Tolerance, Technological Optimism, And Self-sacrifice For The Benefit Of Others.

I Feel That In The Past, My Style Has Shown Itself To Be Capable Of Handling Dark And Light In The Same Paragraph, Or Even In The Same Sentence. That's Something I Almost Take For Granted. I Think It Was More A Concern To Get The Details Right And Persuasively Recreate The World I Was Trying To Write About.

...landsman Doesn't Buy That. Bina Never Stopped Wanting To Redeem The World. She Just Let The World She Was Trying To Redeem Get Smaller And Smaller Until At One Point, It Could Be Bounded In The Hat Of A Hopeless Policeman.