I Am Often Asked Why I Write,

... The First Step Of The Terrible Journey Toward Feeling Somebody Should Act, That Ends In Utter Confusion And Hopelessness, East Of The Sun And West Of The Moon.

Expecting Rain, The Profile Of A Day Wears Its Soul Like A Hat.

The Facts Of History Have Been Too Well Rehearsed.

All Beauty, Resonance, Integrity, Exist By Deprivation Or Logic Of Strange Position.

And So We Turn The Page Over. To Think Of Starting. This Is All There Is.