If Love Is What Is Held To

The Reaction To 'aftermath' Has Been Far Worse Than To 'a Life's Work,' Yet I Find I'm Perhaps A Little Less Touched By It. In Both Cases, I've Coped Artistically By Believing The Criticisms Weren't Right. They Upset Me, But They Didn't Challenge My Understanding Of How To Write, Nor Of How Morality Functions In Literature.

You Could Time A Suburban Story By Your Watch: It Lasts As Long As It Takes A Small Furry Animal That's Lonely To Find Friends, Or A Small Furry Animal That's Lost To Find Its Parents; It Lasts As Long As A Quick Avowal Of Love; It Lasts Precisely As Long As The Average Parent Is Disposed On A Tuesday Night To Spend Reading Aloud To Children.

I Remain Fascinated By Where You Go As A Woman Once You Are A Mother, And If You Ever Come Back.

There Are Certain Types Of Slightly Hysterical Human Characters Who, Rather Than Creating, Walk Around With A Sense Of Their Own Potential - It's As If They Themselves Were Art Objects. They Feel As If Their Lives Are Written Narratives, Or Pieces Of Music.

Hope Is Like One Of Those Orchids That Grows Around Toxic Waste: Lovely In Itself - And An Assertion, If You Like, Of Indefatigable Good - But A Sure Sign That Something Nasty Lies Underneath.