On the streets, unrequited love and death go together almost as often as in Shakespeare
The great break of my literary career was going to law school.
The bottom line is, I am against capital punishment, despite my understanding of the visceral attraction it has for most Americans.
My view is that popular fiction as it existed was just plain dumb, and literary fiction was either abstruse, or unbelievably boring.
I'm not a scholar, I didn't have a scholar's attitude toward literature.
It turned out people were intensely curious about what actually goes on in courtrooms, and that Americans were deeply interested in law.
You can't say there's going to be no death penalty and then say we can't have severe conditions of confinement.
I saw that universality had got to be the ultimate objective.
Like most American boys of my age I read a lot of Ian Fleming.
The embrace of plot has allowed something like the Oprah book club phenomenon to emerge.
Who are we but the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves, and believe?
Nobody ever gets what they want when it comes to love.
It was crime at its purest, in which empathy, that most fundamental aspect of human morality, evaporated and another being became only a target for untamed fantasy.
Anna is part of a generation that often seems frozen in place by their unreleting sense of irony. Virtually everything people believe in can be exposed as possessing laughable inconsistencies. And so they laugh. And stand still.
What kills a person at twenty-five? Leukemia. An accident. But George knows the better odds are that someone who passes at that age dies of unhappiness. Drug overdose. Suicide. Reckless behavior.