I needed a man,” Call replied. “I was hoping he might turn out to be a fighter.” “No, he’s just a jailer,” Billy said.

I will not forget the instinctive wisdom of the friend who, every day for those first few weeks, brought me a quart container of scallion-and-ginger congee from Chinatown. Congee I could eat. Congee was all I could eat.

There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love.

That's how hatred is created: two different groups, each insisting they're on the moral high ground

Written By Neil Strauss

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