The Writer Is All Alone.

I Don't Feel I Can Speak With Authority For Many Other People.

Home Is, I Suppose Just A Child's Idea. A House At Night, And A Lamp In The House. A Place To Feel Safe.

Judgment Is Contained In The Act Of Trying To Understand.

But Everything Of Value About Me Is In My Books.

The Only Lies For Which We Are Truly Punished Are Those We Tell Ourselves.