Fiction That Does Not Acknowledge This At

I Think The Essence Of Family Is That You Have To Agree To It, And Then Supply, Out Of Your Imagination And Capacity For Loyalty, The Contents Of It.

Nothing True Can Be Said About God From A Posture Of Defense.

You Build Your Mind, So Make It Into Something You Want To Live With.

She Conceived Of Life As A Road Down Which One Traveled, An Easy Enough Road Through A Broad Country, And That One's Destination Was There From The Very Beginning, A Measured Distance Away, Standing In The Ordinary Light Like Some Plain House Where One Went In And Was Greeted By Respectable People And Was Shown To A Room Where Everything One Had Ever Lost Or Put Aside Was Gathered Together, Waiting.

Fiction May Be, Whatever Else, An Exercise In The Capacity For Imaginative Love, Or Sympathy, Or Identification.