Part Of The Beauty Of

He Told Me Once That There Was No Better Faith Than A Wounded Faith And Sometimes I Wonder If That Is What He Was Doing All Along --trying To Wound His Faith In Order To Test It--and I Was Just Another Stone In The Way Of His God.

Whenever Summer Rolls Around I Begin To Realize That I'm A Complete And Utter Book Snob. In Relation To Reading, I Have Absolutely No Guilty Pleasures At All. No Graphic Novels. No Murder Mysteries. My Summer Read Is Really No Different From My Winter Read. I Know Many Bookshops And Magazines Would Have Me Believe That Our Summer Forays Are Different, But Literature Is Literature, And Unfortunately Snobbery Is Snobbery.

The Irish Are Great For Their Tunes, But All Their Lovesongs Are Sad And Their Warsongs Happy.

One Of Those Out-of-the-ordinary Days That Made Sense Of The Slew Of Ordinary Days. New York Had A Way Of Doing That. Every Now And Then The City Shook Its Soul Out. It Assailed You With An Image, Or A Day, Or A Crime, Or A Terror, Or A Beauty So Difficult To Wrap Your Mind Around That You Had To Shake Your Head In Disbelief.

It Struck Me That Distant Cities Are Designed Precisely So You Can Know Where You Came From.