Typically in my novels the narrator tells a story by remembering, and the memories are colored by this and colored by that. So the whole universe of the novel tends to be framed by the narrator's memories and thoughts.
I think cooking has the same creative process as designing, where you have the ingredients, you have the alchemy part of it, and you have the satisfaction of seeing your creation become a reality.
The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.
The social aspects of food are really important to me - my favourite food-related memories are meals I've shared with my family and friends. Posting Instagram pictures of your food and then seeing your friends comment on it is just a modern form of that kinship.
That men, in reality, did not have friends in other men. That the fellowship of men, despite its joyous banter, old memories of exaggerated mischief and the altruism of sharing pornography, was actually a farcical fellowship. Because what a man really wanted was to be bigger than his friends.
One of life's joys was to have friends who gave you reality checks...who would call you on your crap before it rose so high you drowned in it.
I've reached the age where anyone who lets me talk seems like an old By listening to my memories, you have become part of them.
The inclusiveness of the Drama League luncheon is one of the most exciting things about it. I get to see old friends and meet new friends. Of course I can't tell who anybody is if they're under the age of 75. So my old friends become my new friends.
I'll always have the memories of guys I lost in Vietnam. And I've lost friends since the war, but I'll always have the memories. The riches are great, but riches aren't everything, because when you go you can only take your memories and your word and your honor to the grave with you.
Patience is not sitting and waiting, it is foreseeing. It is looking at the thorn and seeing rose, looking at the night and seeing the day. Lovers are patient and know that the moon needs time to become full.
Smiling with pleasure, they went through their memories, not sad, old people's memories, but poetic, youthful ones, those impressions from the very distant past where dream merges with reality, and they laughed softly, rejoicing at something.
It's awkward, because sometimes you find new friends that are cooler than your old friends, and then your old friends desperately try to cling on to you even though you sort of hate them by now.
Every single moment of reality instantly turns into memories; reality can not be caught; we can only catch memories.
Friends die, friends become demented, friends quarrel, friends drift with old age into silence.
The worst part about prostitution is that you're obliged not to sell sex only, but your humanity. That's the worst part of it: that what you're selling is your human dignity. Not really so much in bed, but in accepting the agreement - in becoming a bought person.
In order to understand why one chooses to be a Tantric practitioner, there has to be an understanding of cause and effect, cyclic existence, the awareness that the reality that we think we are seeing is not reality as it really truly is. So enlightenment is seeing reality with bare awareness, non-conceptual reality.