We Found Ourselves Wanting To Hurry Time

I've Always Thought Things Were Absurd. It Would Take A Lot More Effort For Me To See Things As Reasonable.

Baseball Is The Slow Creation Of Something Beautiful. It Is The Almost Boringly Paced Accumulation Of What Seems Slight Or Incidental Into An Opera Of Bracing Suspense. The Game Will Threaten Never To End, Until Suddenly It Forces You To Marvel At How It Came To Be Where It Is And To Wonder At How Far It Might Go. It’s The Drowsy Metamorphosis Of The Dull Into The Indescribable.

I'm Not Sure That All Books Aren't That Way. I Think That Might Apply To Any Book I Was Writing. The Book Was Kind Of The Product Of This Enormous Infatuation I Had, Not Only With The Office And Office Politics, But With Perspective, And Trying To Tell A Story From As Wide A Range Of Perspectives As You Possibly Can. I Tried To Capture It All With The First-person Plural, But Once I Settled On That, I Used It To Tell The Story From As Many Angles As I Could. I Guess, To Put It Romantically, It Was About A Love Affair With The Craft Of Perspective.

We Were Fractious And Overpaid. Our Mornings Lacked Promise. At Least Those Of Us Who Smoked Had Something To Look Forward To At Ten-fifteen.

She Looks At Herself In The Mirror. The Idea Is To Look Sexy Again. And For Whom Exactly? Yourself, Of Course. Yes, Well, That's All Wonderfully Self-affirming And Very Strong-minded As Any Decent Woman Should Be These Days, But Let's Just Face Facts Here And Say That When A Woman - No, When A Person Is Thinking About Feeling Sexy, It Is Always With The Idea Of Someone Else In Mind.