I Could Hear My Heart Beating. I

I Loved You So Much Once. I Did. More Than Anything In The Whole Wide World. Imagine That. What A Laugh That Is Now. Can You Believe It? We Were So Intimate Once Upon A Time I Can't Believe It Now. The Memory Of Being That Intimate With Somebody. We Were So Intimate I Could Puke. I Can't Imagine Ever Being That Intimate With Somebody Else. I Haven't Been.

When A Reader Finishes A Wonderful Story And Lays It Aside, He Should Have To Pause For A Minute And Collect Himself.

There Was A Time When I Thought I Loved My First Wife More Than Life Itself. But Now I Hate Her Guts. I Do. How Do You Explain That? What Happened To That Love? What Happened To It, Is What I'd Like To Know. I Wish Someone Could Tell Me.

She Serves Me A Piece Of It A Few Minutes Out Of The Oven. A Little Steam Rises From The Slits On Top. Sugar And Spice - Cinnamon - Burned Into The Crust. But She's Wearing These Dark Glasses In The Kitchen At Ten O'clock In The Morning - Everything Nice - As She Watches Me Break Off A Piece, Bring It To My Mouth, And Blow On It. My Daughter's Kitchen, In Winter. I Fork The Pie In And Tell Myself To Stay Out Of It. She Says She Loves Him. No Way Could It Be Worse.

You're...writing For Other Writers To An Extent-the Dead Writers Whose Work You Admire, As Well As The Living Writers You Like To Read.