It's A Man's World, And You Men

Now And Again Thousands Of Memories Converge, Harmonize, Arrange Themselves Around A Central Idea In A Coherent Form, And I Write A Story.

All The Old Houses That I Knew When I Was A Child Were Full Of Books, Bought Generation After Generation By Members Of The Family. Nobody Told You To Read This Or Not To Read That.

Religion Put Claws On Aunt Sally And Gave Her A Post To Whet Them On.

Nothing Is Mine, I Have Only Nothing But It Is Enough, It Is Beautiful And It Is All Mine. Do I Even Walk About In My Own Skin Or Is It Something I Have Borrowed To Spare My Modesty?

A Novel Is Really Like A Symphony Where Instrument After Instrument Has To Come In At Its Own Time, And No Other.