If I Had Problems, I Kept Them

You Can’t Pick Up And Leave Everything Behind Because There Is Too Much Sadness In The World And Not Enough Places To Go.

Our Friendship Was Like Our Writing In Some Ways. It Was The Only Thing That Was Interesting About Our Otherwise Dull Lives. We Were Better Off When We Were Together. Together We Were A Small Society Of Ambition And High Ideals. We Were Tender And Patient And Kind. We Were Not Like The World At All.

The Light Was Cut To Lace By The Trees That Had Grown So Thick With Leaves In The Last Few Months.

Everyone Knows Everything Eventually.

Writing Is A Miserable, Awful Business. Stay With It. It Is Better Than Anything In The World.