Sublime

the prison wasn’t the place, but the perspective.

Under the torn shirt you could just make out a ragged disc of meat from where, just this morning, an arm had brushed teeth and made coffee.

What matters is not what you choose to include, but the practice of turning your attention on purpose.

For a leading lady to bring me a letter from her father-in-law is a new experience. She is married to Michael Attenborough, son of Richard, and when Dickie was in New York recently for the opening of Young Winston I dropped him a note. His reply said it was very sweet of me to offer to look after Jane, adding that he knew I would do this anyway. Th

McAnnis had had one cult case before, and he knew what didn’t work—words. What did work was kidnapping. He grabbed her off the street in broad daylight—she was walking with just one other Ayuva Daeva devotee, on the way back from the Berkeley Grocery Collective, paper bags in hand—and shoved her into his rental car, placed handcuffs around her wris