“—I probably shouldn’t tell you this, I said.—Kay-Kay, those are my six favorite words in the English language.”

“The stamps on the envelope were English. One was the head of a statesman engraved in purple and the others were motorcars engraved in blue. It seemed like every country in the world had stamps of statesmen and motorcars. Where were the stamps of the elevator boys and hapless housewives? Of the six-story walk-ups and soured wine?”

“I've come to realize that however blue my circumstances, if after finishing a chapter of a Dickens novel I feel a miss-my-stop-on-the-train sort of compulsion to read on, then everything is probably going to be just fine.”

“But I've come to realie that however blue my circumstance,s if after finishing a chapter of a Dickens novel I feel a miss-my-stop-on-the-train sort of compulsion to read on, then everything is probably going to be just fine.”

“What was your favorite day of the year? The summer solstice. June twenty-first. The longest day of the year.”

“On the morning of Friday, July first, I had a low-paying job at a waning publisher and a dwindling circle of semi-acquaintances. On Friday, July eighth, I had one foot in the door of Condé Nast and the other in the door of the Knickerbocker Club—the professional and social circles that would define the next thirty years of my life.That’s how quickly New York City comes about—like a weather vane—or the head of a cobra. Time tells which.”

“Really. Is there anything nice to be said about other people's vacations? I balled up the letter and threw it in the trash.”