It seems to me that obits in the NYT sometimes end abruptly (due to the flux of (un)available column space, I presume), but today, the closing paragraphs of all three print write-ups caught my eye:

Douglas Martin on gadfly and harpsichordist William F. Buckley Jr.:

In the end it was Mr. Buckley’s graceful, often self-deprecating wit that endeared him to others. In his spy novel “Who’s on First,” he described the possible impact of his National Review through his character Boris Bolgin.

“ ‘Do you ever read the National Review, Jozsef?’ asks Boris Bolgin, the chief of KGB counter intelligence for Western Europe. ‘It is edited by this young bourgeois fanatic.’ ”

Richard Goldstein on journalist W. C. Heinz:

Mr. Heinz provided insight into his creative process when he was profiled by Sports Illustrated in September 2000.

“It’s like building a stone wall without mortar,” he said. “You place the words one at a time, fit them, take them apart and refit them until they’re balanced and solid.”

Dennis Hevesi on cinematographer David Watkin:

Mr. Watkin titled his 1998 autobiography “Why Is There Only One Word for Thesaurus?”

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Via marymary, the six-word memoir meme (consider yourself tagged should you desire it, and especially if you're Swooop, Dichroic, Ky_expatriate, Socrates, or Rae):


Likes: Overcoats. Cities. Sunshine in winter.