Let Every Man Shovel Out His Own

A Good Novel Is A Good Novel, Pointe Finale. And I Think What I'm Writing Is Exactly That.

A Good Journalist, As You Know, Is A Great Listener. And So's A Good Writer. And I Got To Listen To People For Almost 20 Years. That Serves Me Well, I Hope, When I Try To Understand How A Character Might Be Feeling, Or How They Might React.

No Good Ever Comes From Putting Up Walls. What People Mistake For Safety Is In Fact Captivity. And Few Things Thrive In Captivity.

He Tried To Let Her Know It Would Be All Right. Eventually. Life Wouldn't Always Be This Painful. The World Wouldn't Always Be This Brutal. Give It Time, Little One. Give It Another Chance. Come Back.

But There Was No Hiding From Conscience. Not In New Homes And New Cars. In Travel. In Meditation Or Frantic Activity. In Children, In Good Works. On Tiptoes Or Bended Knee. In A Big Career. Or A Small Cabin. It Would Find You. The Past Always Did. Which Was Why... It Was Vital To Be Aware Of Actions In The Present. Because The Present Became The Past, And The Past Grew. And Got Up, And Followed You. And Found You... Who Wouldn't Be Afraid Of This?