The More You Lose, The More Is

It Seemed That We Loved Each Other Better When There Were Large Swaths Of Two Continents Between Us. The Daily Work Of Love Was Often Hard To Perform At Home.

We Hated Pretentiousness; It Was A Form Of Self-hatred.

When I Came To America, I Was Already A Writer, Already Published In Bosnia. I Was Planning To Go Back, But I Had No Choice But To Stay Here After The Civil War, So I Enrolled At Northwestern In A Master's Program And Studied American Literature.

I Am Itching To Criticize Some Well-regarded Writers' Works, But I Am Not Doing It Because I Am Perfectly Aware That My Critique Could Easily Be Reduced To Envy Or Just Plain Meanness.

In Bosnian, There's No Distinction In Literature Between Fiction And Nonfiction; There's No Word Describing That.