I Write A Lot In My Head.

Who You Are Is A Mystery No One Can Answer, Not Even You.

I'll Read Anything. In Fact, I'll Read While I'm Doing Other Things, Which Is Not A Good Idea.

I Am Not Aware Of Anything Below My Neck. I Live Completely In My Head.

I Wrote Home To Say How Lovely Everything Was, And I Used Flourishing Words And Phrases, As If I Were Living Life In A Greeting Card - The Kind That Has A Satin Ribbon On It, And Quilted Hearts And Roses, And Is Expected To Be So Precious To The Person Receiving It That The Manufacturer Has Placed A Leaf Of Plastic On The Front To Protect It.

When I'm Writing, I Think About The Garden, And When I'm In The Garden I Think About Writing. I Do A Lot Of Writing By Putting Something In The Ground.