America's Great Talent, I Think, Is To

I Hope That In My Thirties I Grow As A Writer, Push Into New Territory.

So Much Of The Way Books Get Classified Has To Do With Marketing Decisions. I Think It's More Useful To Think Of Literary Books And Sci-fi/fantasy Books As Existing On A Continuum.

My Older Sister Has Entire Kingdoms Inside Of Her, And Some Of Them Are Only Accessible At Certain Seasons, In Certain Kinds Of Weather. One Such Melting Occurs In Summer Rain, At Midnight, During The Vine-green Breathing Time Right Before Sleep. You Have To Ask The Right Question, Throw The Right Rope Bridge, To Get There-and Then Bolt Across The Chasm Between You, Before Your Bridge Collapses.

What Passes For News Is Just Morbid Speculation Or Cartoonish Screaming, Followed By Diaper Commercials.

A Single Note, Held In An Amber Suspension Of Time, Like A Charcoal Drawing Of Icarus Falling. It Was Sad And Fierce All At Once, Alive With A Lonely Purity. It Went On And On, Until My Own Lungs Were Burning. “what Bird Are You Calling?” I Asked Finally, When I Couldn’t Stand It Any Longer. The Bird Man Stopped Whistling. He Grinned, So That I Could See All His Pebbly Teeth. “you.