We Live In A Media Soup And

The Anger Of The Weak Never Goes Away, Professor, It Just Gets A Little Moldy. It Molds Like A Beautiful Blue Cheese In The Dark, Growing Stronger, And More Interesting. The Poor And The Weak Die With All Their Anger Intact And Probably Those Angers Go On Growing In The Dark Of The Grave Like The Hair And The Nails.

I Think Having A Great Range Of Experiences In My Life Had Helped Me As A Writer, Particularly A Writer Of Fiction. I Have Known A Great Many Different Sorts Of People In Different Situations, And I Have A Notion How Very Well Of Badly People Can Behave In Times Of Stress Or Danger Or Violence.

Writing Is A Futile Attempt To Preserve What Disappears Moment By Moment.

With My Poems, I Finally Won Even My Mother. The Longest Wooing Of My Life.

The Will To Be Totally Rational Is The Will To Be Made Out Of Glass And Steel: And To Use Others As If They Were Glass And Steel.