I Think The Pattern Of My Essays

I've Been Writing About James Fenimore Cooper. He Was Not A Writer. Here Was A Man Who Was 30 Years Old And Had Never Put Anything More Than His Signature On Paper.

There Is A Place In Men's Lives Where Pictures Do In Fact Bleed, Ghosts Gibber And Shriek, Maidens Run Forever Through Mysterious Landscapes From Nameless Foes; That Place Is, Of Course, The World Of Dreams And Of The Repressed Guilts And Fears That Motivate Them [i.e., The Unconscious]. This World The Dogmatic Optimism And Shallow Psychology Of The Age Of Reason Had Denied; And Yet This World It Is The Final, Perhaps The Essential, Purpose Of The Gothic Romance To Assert.

Critics? How Do They Happen? I Know How It Happened To Me. I Would Send A Poem Or Story To A Magazine And They Would Say This Doesn't Suit Our Needs Precisely But On The Other Hand You Sound Interesting. Would You Be Interested In Doing A Review?

Jane Austen Is At The End Of The Line That Begins With Samuel Richardson, Which Takes Wonder And Magic Out Of The Novel, Treats Not The Past But The Present.

Faulkner Turned Out To Be A Great Teacher. When A Student Asked A Question Ineptly, He Answered The Question With What The Student Had Really Wanted To Know.