Having lost people when they were young, you feel intimately acquainted with mortality, I guess. Though I procrastinate worse than anybody.

People are strange, but more than that, they're good. They're good first, then strange.

But without William K, I would have forgotten that I had not been born on this journey. That I had lived before this.

You treat a kid with respect and as an adult you talk to them as if they're smart people. But you don't throw at them the trappings of adulthood and you know, the darker stuff.

They had lost five straight. They were like a wounded animal: They came at us and they wanted it worse than we did.

I've purposely stayed away from reading much about postmodern theory, and most everything I have read just bored me to tears. I don't think anybody's written about it, or very few have, with any verve.