In The World According To Her Father,

The Building Of The Architecture Of A Novel - The Craft Of It - Is Something I Never Tire Of.

I Do Know Where I'm Going And It's Just A Matter Of Finding The Language To Get There.

There Was No Manifestation Of Contemporary Culture That Did Not Indicate To My Grandmother How Steadfast Was The Nation's Decline, How Merciless Our Mental And Moral Deterioration, How Swiftly All-embracing Our Final Decadence. I Never Saw Her Read A Book Again; But She Referred To Books Often - As If They Were Shrines And Cathedrals Of Learning That Television Had Plundered And Then Abandoned.

When Jack Burns Needed To Hold His Mother's Hand, His Fingers Could See In The Dark.

I Have A Very Poor Record At Multiple Choice Questions.