Given Enough Time, I Guess Anything Can

At First, Writing For The New Yorker Was Very Scary To Me. I Couldn't Imagine Anything That I Would Write In That Typeface.

In Japanese And Italian, The Response To ["how Are You?"] Is "i'm Fine, And You?" In German It's Answered With A Sigh And A Slight Pause, Followed By "not So Good.

I Don't Think I'm A Witty Person. To Me, A Witty Person Is A Funny Person Who Is Also A Smart Person. My Friend David Rakoff, Who Died A Few Years Ago, He Was A Witty Person. Fran Lebowitz Is A Witty Person. I Don't Think There Are That Many Witty People Around, So You Tend To Notice Them When They Do Come Around. I Don't Consider Myself To Be That.

They're Hungry For Something They Know Nothing About, But We, We Know All Too Well That The Price Of Fame Is The Loss Of Privacy.

And When Hugh Would Grow Progressively Gandhi On Me, I'd Remind Him That These Were Pests---disease Carriers Who Feasted Upon The Dead And Then Came Indoors To Dance Upon Our Silverware.