Flat Or Round, There Has Always Been

I'm Not Very Good At Being Alive. Sometimes I Despair Of Ever Mastering It, Getting It Right. When I'm Old, Perhaps.

I've Been Criticised For Writing In Too Complex A Manner For Younger People.

It Was Not Apathy. It Was An Intelligent Disinterest In Those Things That Could Have No Bearing On One's Existence.

I Held Out My Book. It Was Precious To Me, As Were All The Things I'd Written; Even Where I Despised Their Inadequacy There Was Not One I Would Disown. Each Tore Its Way From My Entrails. Each Had Shortened My Life, Killed Me With Its Own Special Little Death.

Archetypes Are Universal, And, In Subtle Or Extravagant Ways, Interchangeable.