And So Will The World End, I

Books Are The Perfect Entertainment: No Commercials, No Batteries, Hours Of Enjoyment For Each Dollar Spent. What I Wonder Is Why Everybody Doesn't Carry A Book Around For Those Inevitable Dead Spots In Life.

I Can't Understand Why People Use Religion To Hurt Each Other When There's Already So Much Pain In The World.

The Idea That Creative Endeavor And Mind-altering Substances Are Entwined Is One Of The Great Pop-intellectual Myths Of Our Time.

These Self-appointed Deacons In The Church Of Latter-day American Literature Seem To Regard Generosity (of Words) With Suspicion, Texture With Dislike, And Any Broad Literary Stroke With Outright Hate. The Result Is A Strange And Arid Literary Climate Where A Meaningless Little Fingernail Paring Like Nicholson Baker's Vox Becomes An Object Of Fascinated Debate And Dissection, And A Truly Ambitious American Novel Like Matthew's Heart Of The Country Is All But Ignored.

People Want To Know Why I Do This, Why I Write Such Gross Stuff. I Like To Tell Them I Have The Heart Of A Small Boy... And I Keep It In A Jar On My Desk.