The Lady Has Always Moved To The

The Awful Thing, As A Kid Reading, Was That You Came To The End Of The Story, And That Was It. I Mean, It Would Be Heartbreaking That There Was No More Of It.

I Don’t Think Any Man Writing Can Worry About What The Act Of Writing Costs Him, Even Though At Times He Is Very Aware Of It.

It Is Hard Going To The Door Cut So Small In The Wall Where The Vision Which Echoes Loneliness Brings A Scent Of Wild Flowers In The Wood.

My Nature Is A Quagmire Of Unresolved Confessions.

Form Is Never More Than An Extension Of Content.