When There's Nothing To Do, You Do

It Was A Strange Feeling, Like Touching A Void.

What Do You Think? I'm Not A Starfish Or A Pepper Tree. I'm A Living, Breathing Human Being. Of Course I've Been In Love.

Sometimes I Wonder Why I'm A Novelist Right Now. There Is No Definite Career Reason Why I Became A Writer. Something Happened, And I Became A Writer. And Now I'm A Successful Writer.

When I Wake Up, My Pillow’s Cold And Damp With Tears. But Tears For What? I Have No Idea.

A Certain Type Of Perfection Can Only Be Realized Through A Limitless Accumulation Of The Imperfect.