The New York Quarterly Is An Amazing,

What A View, I Said Again. The River Was Blank And Mindless With Beauty. It Was The Most Glorious Thing I Have Ever Seen. But It Was Not Seeing, Really. For Once It Was Not Just Seeing. It Was Beholding. I Beheld The River In Its Icy Pit Of Brightness, In Its Far-below Sound And Indifference, In Its Large Coil And Tiny Points And Flashes Of The Moon, In Its Long Sinuous Form, In Its Uncomprehending Consequence.

There Ain't Nothin' To Dyin', Really. You Just Get Tired. You Kind Of Drift Away.

The Body Is The One Thing You Can't Fake; It's Just Got To Be There.

We've Always Had A Tradition In America Of Hounding Our Artists To Death. Look At The List Of Our Great Artists, You See A Continual History Of Defeat, Frustration, Poverty, Alcoholism, Drug Addiction. The Best Poets Of My Generation Are All Suicides.

The Women Of The South Have Brought Into American Literature A Unique Mixture Of Domesticity And Grotesquerie.