Sleep Is A Prison For A Boy

Every Immigrant Family, It Seems, Has Someone Who Does Not Belong In The New Country They Have Come To. It Feels Like Permanent Exile To That One Brother Or Wife Who Cannot Stand A Silent Fate In Boston Or London Or Melbourne. I’ve Met Many Who Remain Haunted By The Persistent Ghost Of An Earlier Place.

When I Read Biographies, I Skip The First Thirty Pages About The Childhood Because It Doesn't Seem Interesting To Me.

In The Desert You Celebrate Nothing But Water.

I Promised To Tell You How One Falls In Love.

I Have Spent Weeks In The Desert, Forgetting To Look At The Moon, He Says, As A Married Man May Spend Days Never Looking Into The Face Of His Wife. These Are Not Sins Of Omission But Signs Of Pre-occuopation.