I Took A Little Celebrational Nap.

Fear . . . Is Forward. No One Is Afraid Of Yesterday.

There Are Times When Every Act, No Matter How Private And Unconscious, Becomes Political.

Writing About Writing Is A Bit Like Talking About A Conversation You Are Having; It Tends To Obscure Desperation About Where The Next Word Is Coming From.

I Think Maybe Writers Come From Different Planets. I Mean, Not In Any Sense As Extravagant As Baryshnikov. But There Are Some Writers Who Understand Each Other This Way And Others Who Understand Each Other That Way. Then There's This Great Herd, The "herd Of Independent Minds."

I Love The Laconic. Clearly, I Am Not Of Their Number.