Who Knows But That, On The Lower

But What A Feeling Can Come Over A Man Just From Seeing The Things He Believes In And Hopes For Symbolized In The Concrete Form Of A Man. In Something That Gives A Focus To All The Other Things He Knows To Be Real. Something That Makes Unseen Things Manifest And Allows Him To Come To His Hopes And Dreams Through His Outer Eye And Through The Touch And Feel Of His Natural Hand.

I Suspect That All The Agony That Goes Into Writing Is Borne Precisely Because The Writer Longs For Acceptance-but It Must Be Acceptance On His Own Terms.

Some People Are Your Relatives But Others Are Your Ancestors, And You Choose The Ones You Want To Have As Ancestors. You Create Yourself Out Of Those Values.

Many Of The Rites Of Passage, Those Rituals Of Growing Up Found In Our Society, Are In The Form Of Such Comic, Practical Joking Affairs--which We Ignore In The Belief That They Possess No Deeper Significance. Yet It Is Precisely In Their Being Regarded As Unimportant That They Take On Importance. For In Them We Ritualize And Dramatize Attitudes Which Contradict And Often Embarrass The Sacred Values Which We Proclaim Through Our Solemn Ceremonies And Rituals Of Nationhood.

All Novels Are About Certain Minorities: The Individual Is A Minority.