Very Early You Come To The Realization

Construed As Turf, Home Just Seems A Provisional Claim, A Designation You Make Upon A Place, Not One It Makes On You. A Certain Set Of Buildings, A Glimpsed, Smudged Window-view Across A Schoolyard, A Musty Aroma Sniffed Behind A Garage When You Were A Child, All Of Which Come Crowding In Upon Your Latter-day Senses -- Those Are Pungent Things And Vivid, Even Consoling. But To Me They Are Also Inert And Nostalgic And Unlikely To Connect You To The Real, To That Essence Art Can Sometimes Achieve, Which Is Permanence.

What I Know Is, You Have Chance In Life--of Surviving It--if You Tolerate Loss Well; Manage Not To Be A Cynic Through It All; To Subordinate, As Ruskin Implied, To Keep Proportion, To Connect The Unequal Things Into A Whole That Preserves The Good, Even If Admittedly Good Is Often Not Simple To Find.

Writing Is The Only Thing I've Ever Done With Persistence, Except For Being Married.

There Are More People In America That Love Guns And Want Guns For Themselves And Everyone Else Than There Are Not. It Is Also True That Liberals Who Don't Want Guns Are Puny By And Large. They're Not Risking Anything, All They're Doing Is Saying They Don't Like Something. Liberals Are Quick To Say This Should Happen And This Should Not Happen, But They Don't Do Anything About It Much.

What Was Our Life Like? I Almost Don't Remember Now. Though I Remember It, The Space Of Time It Occupied. And I Remember It Fondly.