Childhood Is A Branch Of Cartography.

When I Remember That Dizzy Summer, That Dull, Stupid, Lovely, Dire Summer, It Seems That In Those Days I Ate My Lunches, Smelled Another's Skin, Noticed A Shade Of Yellow, Even Simply Sat, With Greater Lust And Hopefulness - And That I Lusted With Greater Faith, Hoped With Greater Abandon. The People I Loved Were Celebrities, Surrounded By Rumor And Fanfare; The Places I Sat With Them, Movie Lots And Monuments. No Doubt All Of This Is Not True Remembrance But The Ruinous Work Of Nostalgia, Which Obliterates The Past, And No Doubt, As Usual, I Have Exaggerated Everything.

There's Something Inherently More Appealing About The Idea That You Could Reveal And Tell Stories About Characters Over The Course Of A Tv Season - 13 Or 26 Episodes, Whatever It Might Be - Than In The Course Of One Two-hour Movie. You Can Do So Many More Novelistic Kinds Of Things On A Tv Show - With Time, With Gradual Development Of Relationships, And So On - Than You Could Possibly Do In A Movie. And That Is Very Appealing.

That Evening I Rode Downtown On An Unaccountably Empty Bus, Sitting In The Last Row. At The Front I Saw A Thin Cloud Of Smoke Rising Around The Driver’s Head. ‘hey, Bus Driver,’ I Said. ‘can I Smoke?’ ‘may I,’ Said The Bus Driver. ‘i Love You,’ I Said.

Dr. Roboy, In Litvak's Measured View, Had A Vice Common To Believers: He Was All Strategy And No Tactics. He Was Prone To Move For The Sake Of Moving, Too Focused On The Goal To Bother With The Intervening Sequence.

I Have A Good Memory For Words, And When I Come Upon A Word I Don't Know, I Remember It, Or Try To - It's Almost Like A Tic.