I Just Think I'm Better Equipped To

The More Distressing The Memory, The More Persistent It's Presence.

I Am Ninety. Or Ninety-three. One Or The Other.

The Only Thing That Makes Me Crazier Than Writing Is Not Writing.

I Am Further Back, Surrounded On All Sides By Wailing Men, Their Faces Shiny With Tears. Uncle Al Promised Three Dollars And A Bottle Of Canadian Whiskey To The Man Who Puts On The Best Show. You've Never Seen Such Grief-- Even The Dogs Were Howling.

Sometimes I Think If I Had To Choose Between An Ear Of Corn Or Making Love To A Woman, I'd Choose The Corn.