I Just Write When Fear Overtakes Me.

When You Leave New York, You Are Astonished At How Clean The Rest Of The World Is. Clean Is Not Enough.

There's No Such Thing As Advice To The Lovelorn. If They Took Advice, They Wouldn't Be Lovelorn. You See, Advice And Lovelorn Don't Go Together. Because Advice Makes Love Sound Like Some Sort Of Cognitive Activity, But We Know That It Isn't. We All Know That It's Some Sort Of Horrible Chemical Reaction Over Which We Have Absolutely No Control. And That's Why Advice Doesn't Work.

Maybe It's Superficial To Exude A Sense Of Confidence In One's Clothes. But It's Also Integral. We Have An Appearance. Not All Of Us Are Beautiful. But We Can Appear Fine Looking. So We Should. Feeling Good About An Outfit Is The Point At Which That Outfit Finally Becomes Good.

I Am Not Personally A Parent. But I Do Have Two Godchildren And Am Expecting A Third. I Am Naturally Concerned For Their Future. If I Ruled The World You Could Bet Your Boots That None Of Them Would Ever Set Their Eyes On Any Such Contraptions As Digital Clocks And Pocket Calculators. But Alas, I Do Not Rule The World And That, I Am Afraid, Is The Story Of My Life - Always A Godmother, Never A God.

I Hate, Simply, To Work. I Just Hate To Work, Period. I Am Profoundly Slothful. Practically Inert.