The Truth Came Slowly Like A Story

There Was No Way To Grasp The Reality Of The Present Which Slid Away Each Second, Invisible As Air; Reality Only Existed After The Fact, In One's Vision Of The Past.

You'll See Some Bad Things, But If You Didn't See Them, They'd Still Be Happening.

My Father Brought Me A Box Of Books Once When I Was About Three And A Half Or Four. I Remember The Carton They Were In And The Covers With Illustrations By Newell C. Wyeth.

People Steal Into One's Consciousness And Occupy What Seems, In Retrospect, To Have Been Their Place All Along.

Imagination Has To Do With One's Awareness Of The Reality Of Other People As Well As Of One's Own Reality. Imagination Is A Bridge Between The Provincialism Of The Self And The Great World.