At age fifteen, I could recognize the heroic individual endurance memorialized on a gravestone from 1773.

I had also learned to make the argument from Nature (a rhetorical trope I now regard with deep suspicion), explaining that if competitiveness were truly destructive, it would have been bred right out of us.

I knew I was a control freak.

I loved hearing that someone thought I undersold myself. Although I didn't think it was true.

I wanted to be a devasting wit, but I was only capable of rising to the quip when I had no stake in the matter (viz. Mr. G v. JG).

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