I Write Against Violence. I Write Against

All Of This Happened A Long Time Ago. But Not So Long Ago That Everyone Who Played A Part In It Is Dead. Some Can Still Be Met In Dark Old Rooms With Nurses In Attendance.

People Can Only Be Found In What They Do.

Complaints About Reality Are Immature.

Literature Was Intended To Be Dangerous. Art Was Meant To Be Dangerous. Ideas Were Nothing If They Were Not Dangerous.

There Are No Beginnings, Not Even To Stories. There Are Only Places Where You Make An Entrance Into Someone Else's Life And Either Stay Or Turn And Go Away.