The Balls Do Not Make A Writer.

Our Daughter Was Born In Chicago, And She's Already Showing It. The Temperature Has To Be Approaching Zero For Her To Wear A Hat.

There Are Moments In Life When It Is All Turned Inside Out--what Is Real Becomes Unreal, What Is Unreal Becomes Tangible, And All Your Levelheaded Efforts To Keep A Tight Ontological Control Are Rendered Silly And Indulgent.

Chicago Is Not A Bad Place To Live. But The Usual Story Of Immigration Is The Happy Fulfillment Of Human Potential In America That Is Not Available Anywhere Else - It's Propaganda, Really. It's More Complicated Than That.

There Are Many Things I Think About That Never Get To The Point Of Becoming Serious. In Other Words, I Try To Talk Myself Out Of Writing, Sometimes For Many Years, And When I Run Out Of Arguments, I Write.

Time Does Nothing But Hand You Down Shabbier And Older Things.