The interceptions and two fumbles? Those just happened at the wrong time.
What matters to me is that one identifies one's genuine obsessions, one's genuine commitments, one's genuine appetites, one pursues them seriously and far.
Here is a humanist proposition for the age of Google: The processing of information is not the highest aim to which the human spirit can aspire, and neither is competitiveness in a global economy. The character of our society cannot be determined by engineers.
No great deed, private or public, has ever been undertaken in a bliss of certainty.
The Internet is like closing time at a blue-collar bar in Boston. Everyone’s drunk and ugly and they’re going to pass out in a few minutes.
Her book about the money in sex gives you the feeling of the sex in money.
But even now, with the crates piled high in the hall, what I see most plainly about the books is that they are beautiful. They take up room? Of course they do: they are an environment; atoms, not bits. My books are not dead weight, they are live weight — matter infused by spirit, every one of them, even the silliest. They do not block the horizon; they draw it. They free me from the prison of contemporaneity: one should not live only in one’s own time. A wall of books is a wall of windows.
I believe an artist is the last person in the world who can afford to be affected.
The life that I have chosen gives me my full hours of enjoyment.
I never went to film school, so I just sort of learned on my own.
The advantage of riches remains with him who procured them, not with the heir.