The Art Of Fiction Is Freedom Of

Imagine An American Hans Christian Andersen, Conceive Of The Brothers Grimm Living In Missouri, And You Will Approximate Howard Schwartz, A Fable-maker And Fable-gatherer Seduced By The Uncanny And The Unearthly. In Lilith's Cave, He Once Again Reaches Into A Magical Cornucopia Of Folklore And Fantasy And Spreads Before Us, In Enchanting Language, The Marvels And Shocks Of Dybbuks, Ghosts, Demons, Spirits, And Wizards.

All Politicians Know That Every 'temporary' Political Initiative Promised As A Short-term Poultice Stays On The Books Forever.

One Must Avoid Ambition In Order To Write. Otherwise Something Else Is The Goal: Some Kind Of Power Beyond The Power Of Language. And The Power Of Language, It Seems To Me, Is The Only Kind Of Power A Writer Is Entitled To.

Life Is That Which - Pressingly, Persistently, Unfailingly, Imperially - Interrupts.

In The Compact Between Novelist And Reader, The Novelist Promises To Lie, And The Reader Promises To Allow It.