“As André and I left for South America, the newspaper boys were screaming headlines like: 'Stocks Collapse: Nationwide stampede to unload'; 'Unexpected torrent of liquidation'; and 'Two and a half billion in savings lost'. The worst part was the stories of ruined businessmen leaping from windows thirty storeys high and from the Brooklyn Bridge.'If they calmed down things would stabilise faster. They might even see opportunities for fortunes to be made,' said André.I nodded my agreement. But I knew something that André didn't; something those businessmen might have known too. I knew what it was like to be poor--and that once you had become rich, anything was better than being poor again.”

“I knew what it was like to be poor, and that once you had become rich, anything was better than being poor again.”

“When I looked, I knew I might never again see so much of the earth so beautiful, the beautiful being something you know added to something you see, in a whole that is different from the sum of its parts. What I saw might have been just another winter scene, although an impressive one. But what I knew was that the earth underneath was alive and that by tomorrow, certainly by the day after, it would be all green again. So what I saw because of what I knew was a kind of death with the marvellous promise of less than a three-day resurrection.”

“Without willing it, I had gone from being ignorant of being ignorant to being aware of being aware. And the worst part of my awareness was that I didn't know what I was aware of. I knew I knew very little, but I was certain that the things I had yet to learn wouldn't be taught to me at George Washington High School. ”

“I might like to believe that every day, every hour, every minute of every hour of every day with Henry was *not* the happiest time I ever knew. I might like to believe that I am remembering it that way only because the happiest time ever makes it a better story. Because that's all you have left after people are gone from you, some things and some stories.”

“Satellites can see your thoughts, but not through rock,' is like something they might say. In John William's case, it was conscious hyperbole and therefore commentary. At one level, it was reefer-inspired. It was partly for fun. It was other things, too-but not derangement. I give no credence to the interpretation, and I knew him better than anybody.”