It Was Inevitable: The Scent Of Bitter

Everything That Belonged To Her Husband Made Her Weep Again: His Tasseled Slippers, His Pajamas Under The Pillow, The Space Of His Absence In The Dressing Table Mirror, His Own Odor On Her Skin. A Vague Thought Made Her Shudder: "the People One Loves Should Take All Their Things With Them When They Die.

Wherever They Might Be They Always Remember That The Past Was A Lie, That Memory Has No Return, That Every Spring Gone By Could Never Be Recovered, And That The Wildest And Most Tenacious Love Was An Ephemeral Truth In The End.

At Some Point, You No Longer Feel Pain. Sensation Disappears And Reason Is Dulled, Until You Lose All Grasp Of Time And Place.

From The Moment I Wrote 'leaf Storm' I Realized I Wanted To Be A Writer And That Nobody Could Stop Me And That The Only Thing Left For Me To Do Was To Try To Be The Best Writer In The World.

He Repeated Until His Dying Day That There Was No One With More Common Sense, No Stonecutter More Obstinate, No Manager More Lucid Or Dangerous, Than A Poet.