In America We Eat, Collectively, With A

There Is A Communication Of More Than Our Bodies When Bread Is Broken And Wine Is Drunk. And That Is My Answer When People Ask Me: Why Do You Write About Hunger, And Not Wars Or Love.

I Cannot Count The Good People I Know Who To My Mind Would Be Even Better If They Bent Their Spirits To The Study Of Their Own Hungers.

Wine And Cheese Are Ageless Companions, Like Aspirin And Aches, Or June And Moon, Or Good People And Noble Ventures.

I Wrote Like A Junkie. I Had To Have My Daily Fix.

Painting, It Is True, Was Undergoing A Series Of -isms Reminiscent Of The Whims Of A Pregnant Woman.