He Despised His Body For Its Boring

Society Is Like This Card Game Here, Cousin. We Got Dealt Our Hand Before We Were Even Born, And As We Grow We Have To Play As Best As We Can.

Here I Am, Where I Ought To Be. A Writer Must Have A Place Where He Or She Feels This, The Place To Love And Be Irritated With.

History Works Itself Out In The Living.

I Spend Most Of My Time Writing.

She Had Always Been A Reader… But Now She Was Obsessed. Since Her Discovery Of The Book Hoard Downstairs From Her Job, She’d Been Caught Up In One Such Collection Of People And Their Doings After The Next…the Pleasure Of This Sort Of Life – Bookish, She Supposed It Might Be Called, A Reading Life – Had Made Her Isolation Into A Rich And Even Subversive Thing. She Inhabited One Consoling Or Horrifying Persona After Another…that She Was Childless And Husbandless And Poor Meant Less Once She Picked Up A Book. Her Mistakes Disappeared Into It. She Lived With An Invented Force.