From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and few.

There was a beauty here, refined from country pastures, a game of solitariness, of waiting, waiting for the pitcher to complete his gaze toward first base and …

The artistic triumph of American Jewry lay, he thought, not in the novels of the 1950s but in the movies of the 1930s, those gargantuan, crass contraptions whe…

Freedom, that he always thought was outward motion, turns out to be this inward dwindling.