If Broadway was a river running from the top of Manhattan down to the Battery, undulating with traffic and commerce and lights, then the east-west streets were eddies where, leaf-like, one could turn slow circles...

That’s the problem with living in New York. You’ve got no New York to run away to.

That’s how quickly New York City comes about – like a weather wane – or the head of a cobra. Time tells which.

Most New Yorkers spent their lives somewhere between the fruit cart and the fifth floor. To see the city from a few hundred feet above the riffraff was pretty celestial. We gave the moment its...

If we only fell in love with people who were perfect for us…then there wouldn’t be so much fuss about love in the first place.

In our twenties, when there is still so much time ahead of us, time that seems ample for a hundred indecisions, for a hundred visions and revisions—we draw a card, and we must decide right...

I’m willing to be under anything, she said, as long as it isn’t somebody’s thumb.

I found myself intent on keeping the memories of the year to myself.[…]I didn’t want to share them. Because I didn’t want to dilute them

For however inhospitable the wind, from this vantage point Manhattan was simply so improbable, so wonderful, so obviously full of promise – that you wanted to approach it for the rest of your life without...

That’s the problem with being born in New York, the old newsman observed a little sadly. You’ve got no New York to run away to.