Everything's Been Said, But It Needs Saying

Without Love For My Fellow Man And Respect For Nature, To Me, Life Is An Obscenity.

In All My Stories And Novels, No One Ever Escapes Louisiana. Maybe That Is Because My Soul Never Left Louisiana, Although My Body Did Go To California.

The Artist Must Be Like A Heart Surgeon. He Must Approach Something With Sympathy, But With A Sort Of Coldness And Work And Work Until He Finds Some Kind Of Perfection In His Work. You Can't Have Blood Splashing All Over The Place. Things Must Be Done Very Cleanly.

Don't Tell Me To Believe. Don't Tell Me To Believe In The Same God Or Laws That Men Believe In Who Commit These Murders. Don't Tell Me To Believe That God Can Bless This Country And That Men Are Judged By Their Peers. Who Among His Peers Judged Him? Was I There? Was The Minister There? Was Harry Williams There? Was Farrell Jarreau? Was My Aunt? Was Vivian? No, His Peers Did Not Judge Him, And I Will Not Believe.

There Will Always Be Men Struggling To Change, And There Will Always Be Those Who Are Controlled By The Past.