Life Between Moments: New York Stories

I say I knew of the caste system, yet I only knew this in the manner that those who have never felt hunger “know” that people can and do starve in places out of sight. There is no emotion attached to the knowledge, nothing visceral, nothing heeded any other way than intellectually.

The remainder were as ordinary as ill-fitting tiles in a mosaic (that is to say, they were not ordinary by any measure).

I don’t go to Roxanne’s because it does me any good. Like all the others that sit on the squeaky, stained bar stools under the red lights, I go because I need the eggs.

In this derelict place, Harris allowed his soul to unfold in a poignant ode to the universe.

Everyone wants a miracle but all they get is life.

In rare instances, however, the exceptional can mistake themselves for ordinary. This usually happens when a viable aspiration is stymied by discouragement, or when ambition exists so briefly that it ends up extinguishing itself. When potential is unrealized, only tragedy remains.

The people who aspire to great things usually don’t have anywhere near the capability for it. Ambition is too often mistaken for intellect, and vigor for competence.”

The least discussed yet most common tragedy seems to be the realization that you are destined to be ordinary.

“To bestow such an acute medical capacity in me, and yet fail to give me a desire to pursue it. Surely the universe offers nothing but a random and sour fate.”