It's Only ... When We're Stripped Of

It Is Not That Love Sometimes Makes Mistakes, But That It Is, Essentially, A Mistake. We Fall In Love When Our Imagination Projects Nonexistent Perfections On To Another Person. One Day The Phantasmagoria Vanishes, And With It Love Dies.

I Think Of Myself As A Very Lazy Writer, Though Other People See It Differently.

I Took My Writing Seriously, And It Seemed To Pay Off.

The Truth Is Always Multiplex.

Each Of Us, With Money, Gets Further And Further Away From Those Moments Where The Hand Pulls The Beet Root From The Soil, Shakes The Fish From The Net Into The Basket -- Not To Mention The Way It Separates Us From One Another, So That When Enough Money Comes Between People, They Lie Apart Like Parts Of A Chicken Hacked Up For Stewing.