Don’t give me that Christian forgiveness bullshit, Dukach. I’m a vindictive Jew!” he’d bellow.

This is a love story. It’s about the good old days, when men were men and women were women and books were books.

In 90 percent of cases, you could tell within a page or two whether the writer could write.

Publishing would be so wonderful without those wretched authors.

It was the artists who finally gave their times and places significance. Paul felt the presence of their ghosts out in the world, just as felt them in his office and in his head. The air was full of them. They were everywhere and always would be.