I Was 40 Years Old Before I

But I'm Not Ready To Stop Listening To The Screwed-up Inner Voice That's Been Ordering Me Around For A Lifetime. My Head Thinks It Can Kill Me... And Go On Living Without Me.

I Get About Five Memoirs Per Week In My Mailbox, And Few Of Them Inspire Anything But A Desire To Pick Up The Channel Changer.

We Are In The Grip Of Some Big Machine Grinding Us Along. The Force Of It Simplifies Everything. A Weird Calm Settled Over Me From Inside Out. What Is About To Happen Has Stood In Line To Happen. All The Roads Out Of That Instant Have Been Closed, One By One.

The Emotional Stakes A Memoirist Bets With Could Not Be Higher, And It's Physically Enervating. I Nap On A Daily Basis Like A Cross-country Trucker.

I Always Say That A Poet Loves The World, And The Prose Writer Needs To Create An Alternative World.