He Pressed His Face Into The Fabric

And I Think That's Important, To Know How The Water's Gone Over The Dam Before You Start To Describe It. It Helps To Have Been Over The Dam Yourself.

But The Only Rhyme He Could Summon For 'out' Was 'sauerkraut,' Which Lacked Poetic Glory. He Let It Go. The Right Line Would Come In Time. That Was The Thing About Poetry. It Crept Up Through The Draws And Coulees Of The Brain.

You Should Write Because You Love The Shape Of Stories And Sentences And The Creation Of Different Words On A Page. Writing Comes From Reading, And Reading Is The Finest Teacher Of How To Write.

We Face Up To Awful Things Because We Can't Go Around Them, Or Forget Them. The Sooner You Get It Over With, The Sooner You Say 'yes, It Happened, And There's Nothing I Can Do About It,' The Sooner You Can Get On With Your Own Life. You've Got Children To Bring Up. So You've Got To Get Over It. What We Have To Get Over, Somehow We Do. Even The Worst Things.

If Life Was An Arc Of Light That Began In Darkness, Ended In Darkness, The First Part Of His Life Had Happened In Ordinary Glare. Here It Was As Though He Had Found A Polarized Lens That Deepened And Intensified All Seen Through It.