If People Would Forget About Utopia! When

Once You Have Some Sort Of Reputation In The Outside World, They Will Try To Woo You. They Will Say, "won't You Come And Be On A Talk Program About Books? That's Not Political." Then They Can Say To The Outside World, "see How Free It Is, She Appears On Television. See How Free It Is." So I Refused To Have Anything Of Mine Read Or Dramatized On South African Television.

Perhaps There Is No Other Way Of Reaching Some Understanding Of Being Than Through Art? Writers Themselves Don't Analyze What They Do; To Analyze Would Be To Look Down While Crossing A Canyon On A Tightrope. To Say This Is Not To Mystify The Process Of Writing But To Make An Image Out Of The Intense Inner Concentration The Writer Must Have To Cross The Chasms Of The Aleatory And Make Them The Word's Own, As An Explorer Plants A Flag.

The Gap Between The Committed And The Indifferent Is A Sahara Whose Faint Trails, Followed By The Mind's Eye Only, Fade Out In Sand.

As Writers, We Are Exploring The Mystery, The Mystery Of Existence.

I'm A Candle Flame That Sways In Currents Of Air You Can't See. You Need To Be The One Who Steadies Me To Burn.