...it Was Necessary To Love Silence, But

Part Of The Beauty Of Fiction Is That We Come Alive In A Body That We Don't Own.

If You Sort Of See Yourself Writing Into A Space That You Don't Always Recognize, You Sometimes Learn Things That You Knew, But Weren't Entirely Aware Of. It's Very Liberating For A Writer To Go Into A Space Where She Or He Has Not Gone Before, Because, Instead Of Being A Tourist, You're Like An Explorer Now, And You're Sort Of Lost In This New Idea.

She's Always Thought That One Of The Beauties Of New York Is That You Can Be From Anywhere And Within Moments Of Landing Its Yours.

She Takes Another Long Haul, Lets The Smoke Settle In Her Lungs-- She Has Heard Somewhere That Cigarettes Are Good For Grief. One Long Drag And You Forget How To Cry. The Body Too Busy Dealing With The Poison.

I Think One Of The Biggest Political Failures, And The Biggest Social Failures, Over The Past Few Years Has Been The Failure Of Empathy; Not Being Able To Look At The Other Person Down The Street.