I Voluntarily Inflicted A Certain Level Of

The Problem Was Money And The Indignities Of Life Without It. Every Stroller, Cell Phone, Yankees Cap, And Suv He Saw Was A Torment. He Wasn't Covetous, He Wasn't Envious. But Without Money He Was Hardly A Man.

I Really Enjoy Doing Both, But I Didn't Write Nonfiction Until 1994.

Readers And Writers Are United In Their Need For Solitude, In Their Pursuit Of Substance In A Time Of Ever-increasing Evanescence: In Their Reach Inward, Via Print, For A Way Out Of Loneliness.

I Feel As If I'm Clearly Part Of A Trend Among Writers Who Take Themselves Seriously - And I Confess To Taking Myself As Seriously As The Next Writer.

As With All Forms Of Liberation, Of Which The Liberation Of Women Is Only One Example, It Is Easy To Suppose In A Time Of Freedom That The Darker Days Of Repression Can Never Come Again.