If You Work At Comedy

As I Drift Back Into Sleep, I Can't Help Thinking That It's A Wonderful Thing To Be Right About The World. To Weigh The Evidence, Always Incomplete, And Correctly Intuit The Whole, To See The World In A Grain Of Sand, To Recognize Its Beauty, Its Simplicity, Its Truth. It's As Close As We Get To God In This Life, And Reside In The Glow Of Such Brief Flashes Of Understanding, Fully Awake, Sometimes For Two Or Three Seconds, At Peace With Our Existence. And Then Back To Sleep We Go.

I Suppose All Writers Worry About The Well Running Dry.

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.

Bookstores, Like Libraries, Are The Physical Manifestation Of The Wide World's Longest, Most Thrilling Conversation.

Have You Ever Noticed That When People Use The Expression 'i Have To Say', What Follows Usually Needn't Be Said?