Uniqueness Is Wasted On Youth.

The Truth Is, I Wrote A Novel When I Was 23. It's Hideously Bad. Truly Rotten.

The Year Most Of My High School Friends And I Got Our Driver's Permits, The Coolest Thing One Could Do Was Stand Outside After School And Twirl One's Car Keys Like A Lifeguard Whistle. That Jingling Sound Meant Freedom And Power.

The Search For One's First Professional Job Is Not Unlike A Magical Love Potion: When One Wants To Fall In Love With The Next Thing One Sees, One Generally Does.

When You Spin A Globe And Point To A City And Actually Go To That City, You Build An Allowance Of Missed Opportunities On The Back End.

No Affair That Begins With Such An Orchestrated Overture Can End On A Simple Note.