The Only Way To Fight Nostalgia Is

This Is Truly Marvelous Work Full Of Mystery, Nostalgia, Joy, The Color Of Whimsy.

They All Laughed. I Drew Their Pictures And They Asked For Copies And I Handed Them Out As If They Were My Tickets To The Show. In The Navy Yard, I Could Drink With Men Because I Worked With Men; In The Parkview, I Could Drink With Men Because I Drew Their Pictures. The World Was A Grand Confusion. Finally, When I Was Bleary, When My Hand Wouldn't Do What I Wanted It To Do, I Went Home. I Would Lie Alone In The Dark, Feeling That I Was A Character In A Story That Had Lost Its Plot.

He Tried To Imagine The Sound Of The Color Red.

It's Odd Being An American Now. Most Of Us Are Peaceful, But Here We Are Again, In Our Fifth Major War Of This Century.

In The End, The Only Thing The True New Yorker Knows About New York Is That It Is Unknowable.