Great bodies of people are never responsible for what they do. They are driven by instincts which are not within their control.

Sometimes I see myself reflected too closely in other men for comfort, and then I have an enormous wish to believe in the saints, in heroic virtue.

My wife and two children traveled with me on locations all last season.

If you could stretch a given minute, what would you find between its unstuck components? Probably some kind of astral madness. A bleak comprehension of the final size of things.

Written By Don DeLillo

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