Maybe we become New Yorkers the day we realize that New York will go on without us.

As if these daily humiliations and sacrifices mean something, are tallied by the ones who keep the books. Tomorrow we pick up where we left off. Sleep tight. Sleep deep. Sleep the sleep of the successful because somehow you made it through the day without anyone finding out that you are a complete fraud.

It is failure that guides evolution; perfection provides no incentive for improvement, and nothing is perfect.