A pool is water, made available and useful, and is, as such, infinitely soothing to the western eye.

I have always wanted a swimming pool and never had one.

New York was no mere city. It was instead an infinitely romantic notion, the mysterious nexus of all love and money and power, the shining and perishable dream itself.

You had to feel the swell change. You had to go with the change. He told me that. No eye is on the sparrow but he did tell me that.

The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself.

Anyone who thinks heaven is not hot water behind a locked door has forgotten what it means to live.