Good Fiction Makes Me Turn

My Parents Were Kind Enough To Spend Hours Talking To Me.

She Took My Hand And Pulled Me After Her, Her Shoulders Giving Off A Sweet Peppermint Concoction That The Bodies Of Young Women Sometimes Produce To Make My Life More Difficult.

... I'm The Fortieth-ugliest Man In This Bar. But So What! So What! What If Someday She Lets Me Kiss Each One Of Her Freckles Again? She Has Like A Million. But Every One Of Them Means Something To Me. Isn't This How People Used To Fall In Love? I Know We're Living In Rubenstein's America, Like You Keep Saying. But Doesn't That Just Make Us Even More Responsible For Each Other's Fates? I Mean, What If Eunice And I Just Said No To All This. To This Bar. To This Facing. The Two Of Us. What If We Just Went Home And Read Books To Each Other?

You Can't Have A Russian Household Without Vodka. It's Just Something To Wash Everything Down With. I Can't Remember A Time When I Didn't Drink Vodka, Either In Russia Or Here. I Don't Think There's Ever A Wrong Time To Start Drinking It. My Ancestors Drank It, And If I Ever Have Any Children, They'll Be Drinking It.

I Love Librarians More Than Any Other People In The World. When I Was An Immigrant Kid, They’ve Made Me Feel Like A Human Being And They Gave Me Books That Taught Me English.