It’s Just Life. You Can’t Beat Life.

When I Told Him On The Phone That After All You And I Would Not Be Getting Married, He Said "oh-oh. Do You Think You'll Ever Manage To Get Another One?" If I'd Objected To His Saying That He Would Naturally Have Said It Was A Joke. And It Was A Joke. I Have Not Managed To Get Another One But Perhaps Have Not Been In The Best Condition To Try.

Moments Of Kindness And Reconciliation Are Worth Having, Even If The Parting Has To Come Sooner Or Later.

I Want My Stories To Be Something About Life That Causes People To Say, Not, Oh, Isn't That The Truth, But To Feel Some Kind Of Reward From The Writing, And That Doesn't Mean That It Has To Be A Happy Ending Or Anything, But Just That Everything The Story Tells Moves The Reader In Such A Way That You Feel You Are A Different Person When You Finish.

Hatred Is Always A Sin, My Mother Told Me. Remember That. One Drop Of Hatred In Your Soul Will Spread And Discolor Everything Like A Drop Of Black Ink In White Milk. I Was Struck By That And Meant To Try It, But Knew I Shouldn’t Waste The Milk.

Peoples Lives, In Jubilee As Elsewhere, Were Dull, Simple, Amazing, Unfathomable-deep Caves Paved With Kitchen Linoleum. . . . What I Wanted [to Write Down] Was Every Last Thing, Every Layer Of Speech And Thought, Stroke Of Light On Bark Or Walls, Every Smell, Pothole, Pain, Crack, Delusion, Held Still And Held Together-radiant, Everlasting.