It should surprise no one that the life of the writer--such as it is--is colorless to the point of sensory deprivation. Many writers do little else but sit in small rooms recalling the real world. This explains why so many books describe the author's childhood. A writer's childhood may well have been the occasion of his only firsthand experience.

I love New York, I love the smell of New York... I love the subway.

I thirsted for the unknown: the thirst is gone. O God, let me stay with the known, and be weary of it: I am content.

She considered hypothesis 3 to be quite unlikely, since she didn’t feel the least bit psychopathic, but included it in the list out of respect for the scientific method.

Written By Neal Stephenson

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