Fiction Is Always Really A Labor.

It Was Too Much Work To Remember Things You Might Not Have Again, And So One By One They Opened Up Their Hands And Let Them Go.

I Can Write For Any Magazine Now, In Any Voice. I Can Do It In Two Hours, I Could Do It In My Sleep, It's Like Writing A Grocery List.

Writing Is A Job, A Talent, But It's Also The Place To Go In Your Head. It Is The Imaginary Friend You Drink Your Tea With In The Afternoon.

People Seem Able To Love Their Dogs With An Unabashed Acceptance That They Rarely Demonstrate With Family Or Friends. The Dogs Do Not Disappointment Them, Or, If They Do, The Owners Manages To Forget About It Quickly. I Want To Learn To Love People Like This, The Way I Love My Dog, With Pride And Enthusiasm And A Complete Amnesia For Faults. In Short, To Love Others The Way My Dog Loves Me.

Happiness Compresses Time, Makes It Dense And Bright, Pocketsized.