Nothing Made Me Happen. I Happened.

On A Related Subject, Signore Pazzi, I Must Confess To You: I'm Giving Serious Thought To Eating Your Wife.

Writing Novels Is The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done, Including Digging Irrigation Ditches.

Because It's His Bad Luck To Be The Best.

Before Me You Are A Slug In The Sun. You Are Privy To A Great Becoming And You Recognize Nothing. You Are An Ant In The After-birth.it Is In Your Nature To Do One Thing Correctly: Before Me You Rightly Tremble. Fear Is Not What You Owe Me, Lounds, You And The Other Pismires. You Owe Me Awe.

I Think It's Easy To Mistake Understanding For Empathy - We Want Empathy So Badly. Maybe Learning To Make That Distinction Is Part Of Growing Up. It's Hard And Ugly To Know Somebody Can Understand You Without Even Liking You.