In The End, The Only Thing The

This Is Truly Marvelous Work Full Of Mystery, Nostalgia, Joy, The Color Of Whimsy.

They All Laughed. I Drew Their Pictures And They Asked For Copies And I Handed Them Out As If They Were My Tickets To The Show. In The Navy Yard, I Could Drink With Men Because I Worked With Men; In The Parkview, I Could Drink With Men Because I Drew Their Pictures. The World Was A Grand Confusion. Finally, When I Was Bleary, When My Hand Wouldn't Do What I Wanted It To Do, I Went Home. I Would Lie Alone In The Dark, Feeling That I Was A Character In A Story That Had Lost Its Plot.

I Don't Ask For The Meaning Of The Song Of A Bird Or The Rising Of The Sun On A Misty Morning. There They Are, And They Are Beautiful.

Frank Sinatra Was The Voice Of The 20th-century American City.

The Goal Is To Be Both Disciplined And Loose, So That The Writing Does Not Turn Into A Task Or A Chore. To Leave Myself Behind, Along With The Mechanics, And Disappear Into The Lives Of My Characters.