The New York Times had not become The New York Times overnight. It had to earn its reputation day-by-day.

To rid the world of Osama bin Laden, Anwar al-Awlaki and Moammar Qaddafi within six months: if Obama were a Republican, he'd be on Mount Rushmore by now.

Blogging is to writing what extreme sports are to athletics: more free-form, more accident-prone, less formal, more alive. It is, in many ways, writing out loud.

How can you tell when a political ideology has become the equivalent of a religion?

Homophobia: the fear that another man will treat you like you treat women.

Don't fool yourself that you're blogging when you're really just putting stuff up online.

The important things are not worth knowing because they are useful. They are worth knowing because they are true.

When you put a tiny and despised minority up for a popular vote, the minority usually loses.

When I was about eight, I asked my mother if it was true that God knows everything about you. When she answered yes, I said, "Then there's no hope for me, Mum."

I think of these imperial adventures like welfare programs; you start them with all good intentions, they never end, they go on forever and get more expensive as they go on.

The dirty little secret of journalism is that it really isn't a profession, it's a craft. All you need is a telephone and a conscience and you're all set.

Who think about the end will never become a hero .

The substitute for knowledge is money.

It is a world of startling possibilities.

Never Throw Stones At Your Mother

When you see persons slip down on the ice, do not laugh at them. ... It is more feminine on witnessing such a sight, to utter an involuntary scream than a shout of laughter.

I watched the tears run down her cheeks and start to drip from the end of her chin. One part of me wanted to put my arms round her but I daren't. Do that and I'd never be able to let her go.

Comic-Con fans are so affectionate, and it's always a lovely way to start a new season.

The hours pass and the days and the months and the years, and the past time never returns.

This theme of bigness — all painters and sculptors have dealt with it ever since.

To be both rich and handsome was bad enough. But to have a voice like honey over warm bread on top of that was simply inexcusable.