When you're too lazy to make a call, or can't be bothered to thumb through Bartlett's, or can't find the Rolodex or the Blackberry, or forgot to write down that telling bon mot you heard from the cabdriver/news butcher/cleaning lady:
Quote:
ONCE, back in the 1990s, my very young son, surveying the density of scaffolding and construction sites in our Manhattan neighborhood, said, “Dad, when are they going to finish building New York?” I think of his question whenever I open a bottle of wine from the Languedoc, a region that seems as if it, too, is permanently in transition.
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