I Began My Writing Career In A

There Was No Limit To What One Man Might Do, If He Gave All, And Held Back Nothing.

I Know Girls Who Pine For It. They Like To Play Dress-up And Pretend Being Vor Ladies Of Old, Rescued From Menace By Romantic Vor Youths. For Some Reason They Never Play 'dying In Childbirth', Or 'vomiting Your Guts Out From The Red Dysentery', Or 'weaving Till You Go Blind And Crippled From Arthritis And Dye Poisoning', Or 'infanticide'. Well, They Do Die Romantically Of Disease Sometimes, But Somehow It's Always An Illness That Makes You Interestingly Pale And Everyone Sorry And Doesn't Involve Losing Bowel Control.

History Does Not So Much Repeat As Echo, I Suppose.

I Spent My 20s Working In Patient Care At A Large University Hospital, An Experience That Has Informed All My Work And Has Given Me A Lot Of Human Observation To Draw On.

You Don't Pay Back Your Parents. You Can't. The Debt You Owe Them Gets Collected By Your Children, Who Hand It Down In Turn. It's A Sort Of Entailment. Or If You Don't Have Children Of The Body, It's Left As A Debt To Your Common Humanity. Or To Your God, If You Possess Or Are Possessed By One. The Family Economy Evades Calculation In The Gross Planetary Product. It's The Only Deal I Know Where, When You Give More Than You Get, You Aren't Bankrupted - But Rather, Vastly Enriched.