If I win seven tournaments in a row, I get so confident I'm in a cloud. A loss gets me eager again.
The Upper Bohemia people wore tuxedos in an art gallery, and Lower Bohemia was all of us.
The American Dream has run out of gas. The car has stopped. It no longer supplies the world with its images, its dreams, its fantasies. No more. It's over. It supplies the world with its nightmares now: the Kennedy assassination, Watergate, Vietnam.

