“In the most secret heart of every intellectual ... there lies hidden ... the hope of power, the desire to bring his ideas to reality by imposing them on his fellow man.”

“consistent affection for his characters is what sets Tolstoy apart. Flaubert is equally objective, he says, but Flauberts objectivity is charged with irritability and Tolstoys with affection. For F...”

“Literature is the human activity that takes the fullest and most precise account of variousness, possibility, complexity, and difficulty.”

“Orwell clung with a kind of wry, grim pride to the old ways of the last class that had ruled the old order. He must sometimes have wondered how it came about that he should be praising sportsmanshi...”

“At the behest of the criterion of authenticity, much that was once thought to make up the very fabric of culture has come to seem of little account, mere fantasy or ritual, or downright falsificati...”

“We who are liberal and progressive know that the poor are our equals in every sense except that of being equal to us.”

“good weatheris likegood womenit doesnt always happenand when it doesit doesntalways last.”

“I did everything when I started. In Miami I did news, I did weather, I did sports, I did disk-jockeying. And I did a sports talk show every week - every Saturday night.”

“I wasn't into sports when I was younger. I was one of those kids who always tried to get a note from the doctor to say I had a cold so I didn't have to go play hockey in bad weather and be miserable.”

“You forget all of it anyway. First, you forget everything you learned-the dates of the Hay-Herran Treaty and Pythagorean Theorem. You especially forget everything you didn't really learn, but just ...”

“It is strange how easy it is to remember pain.”

“Sometimes... I feel like I can't picture him anymore. Like I'm forgetting him... I forget the way he looked when he smiled. The sound of his voice. The way his hand felt wrapped around mine. And it...”

“The month of May is the pleasant time; its face is beautiful; the blackbird sings his full song, the living wood is his holding, the cuckoos are singing and ever singing; there is a welcome before ...”

“Many are the names of God and infinite the forms through which He may be approached.”