It Is All Falling Indelibly Into The

American Writers Ought To Stand And Live In The Margins, And Be More Dangerous.

I've Always Seen Myself In Sentences. I Begin To Recognize Myself, Word By Word, As I Work Through A Sentence.

People Hurried Past, The Others Of The Street, Endless Anonymous, Twenty-one Lives Per Second, Race-walking In Their Faces And Pigments, Sprays Of Fleetest Being.

America Can Be Saved Only By What It's Trying To Destroy.

In The Face Of Technology, Everything Becomes A Little Atavistic.