Men Are Not The Causers Of History.

No One Is Ever Ordinary.

It's Very Selfish When I Write. I'm Not Aware, Ever, Of Writing For Another Person; I'm Not Even Really Aware Of Writing For Myself.

I Held Out My Book. It Was Precious To Me, As Were All The Things I'd Written; Even Where I Despised Their Inadequacy There Was Not One I Would Disown. Each Tore Its Way From My Entrails. Each Had Shortened My Life, Killed Me With Its Own Special Little Death.

The Worst Vulgarity Is To Avoid Vulgarity Solely On The Grounds That It Is Vulgar.

I Simply Write What I Want, Wish, Long To Write.... The State Of Human Life And The God Or Demon Within. The Constant Internal War That Being Alive Can Conjure.