The New Yorker has devoted itself for 59 years not only to facts and literal accuracy but to truth. And truth begins, journalistically, with the facts.

Amid chaos of images, we value coherence. We believe in the printed word. And we believe in clarity. And we believe in immaculate syntax. And in the beauty of the English language.

Falling short of perfection is a process that just never stops.

We have a policy at The New Yorker, .. That is, if someone doesn't want to be profiled, we drop it. I would like you to show me the same courtesy.

There are other places, surely, for other people, but for me there is one place, Ann 
Arbor, for there it was I discovered what lifes bright possibilities were.

We need to put in proper safeguards. How are we going to feel if somebody leases to the Taliban?

Money is created from time

Envy is an envious person and truth they don't like to wear

Now I feel like James Bond. Suave and intelligent, breaking all the codes while looking fabulous.

Medical costs are soaring because our health-care system is totally screwed up. Doctors and hospitals have every incentive to spend on unnecessary tests, drugs, and procedures.

The whole of my acting career is a bit of a mystery to me.

August in Florida is God's way of reminding us who's in charge.

The way we're going... if I called up another pitcher, he'd just hang up the phone on me.

A solid giggle should do the trick.

By the end of the week, if I'm still alive, I get to write whatever I want about it all.

It's such a pleasure to write down splendid words—almost as though one were inventing them.