[b]Nora Ephron
Writers are cannibals. They really are. They are predators, and if you are friends with them, and if you say anything funny at dinner, or if anything good happens to you, you are in big trouble.[/b]
Unless of course you’re looking for touble.
Death doesn’t really feel eventual or inevitable. It still feels avoidable somehow. But it’s not. We know in one part of our brains that we are all going to die, but on some level we don’t quite believe it.
Unless of course you go looking to die.
Black makes your life so much simpler. Everything matches black, especially black.
That and denim.
One of my favorite things about New York is that you can pick up the phone and order anything and someone will deliver it to you. Once I lived for a year in another city, and almost every waking hour of my life was spent going to stores, buying things, loading them into the car, bringing them home, unloading them, and carrying them into the house. How anyone gets anything done in these places is a mystery to me.
Anything? Come on, is this really true?
People who are drawn to journalism are usually people who, because of their cynicism or emotional detachment or reserve or whatever, are incapable of being anything but witnesses to events. Something prevents them from becoming involved, committed, and allows them to remain separate.
Of course here you don’t actually have to be a journalist. At least I’m not.
He loved Thelma, Jonathan said, he had never loved anyone but Thelma, he had loved Thelma for nineteen years and would always love her even though Thelma didn’t give a rat’s ass about him and never had.
Claudia is what I call her.