I know Doris Duke would have enjoyed seeing the statue of a little girl confronting the bull of Wall Street.
Writers have never been paid a living wage… never a princely—or princessly sum—our incomes are now not equal to sustaining even a modest life.
I have special respect for teachers because I finally had to admit, a few years ago, that I can’t do it… at least not directly.
Something has gone wrong with this country, and I don’t know how or exactly when.
I’m trying, with a good deal of anxiety, to put together what I know and believe with the suppositions and proofs of the ancient Greek philosophers. They use a language and a way of thinking, totally abstract—almost—that is as foreign to me as the abstruse calculations each member of my class must write, from memory, on the blackboard.