A man sets himself the task of portraying the world. Shortly before he dies he discovers that this patient labyrinth of lines is a drawing of his own face.

I came to New York and in only hours, New York did what it does to people: awakened the possibilities. Hope breaks out.

I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows.

Would you ask a man who bags groceries if he fears death not because it is death but because there are still some interesting groceries he would like to bag?

Written By Don DeLillo

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