Words Make Another Place, A Place To

Yes, After Some Time Spent Last Year On Other Commitments, Most Of Them Speaking Engagements, I Am Now About Halfway Through A Novel That I Hope Will Come Out In 1998.

Well, I Had A Small Degree, That Little Infection Of Skepticism About America Which Resides In The Minds Of Even America's Closest Friends. That America Can't Be Quite As Good As It Says It Is. And Why Does It Need So Relentlessly To Keep Saying How Good It Is?

We Spent A Month In Japan Last Year, A Week In Istanbul For The United Nations, And Nearly Three Months In My Native Nova Scotia, Where My Two Brothers Have Homes; And We'll Go Back There This Summer.

From My Mother Came The Idea That Going Down To The Sea Repaired The Spirit. That Is Where She Walked When She Was Sad Or Worried Or Lonely For My Father. If She Had Been Crying, She Came Back Composed; If She Had Left Angry With Us, She Returned In Good Humor. So We Naturally Believed That There Was A Cleansing, Purifying Effect To Be Had; That Letting The Fresh Wind Blow Through You Mind And Spirits As Well As Your Hair And Clothing Purged Black Thoughts; That Contemplating The Ceaseless Motion Of The Waves Calmed A Raging Spirit.

Change Is Legitimate And Inevitable, For Our Language Is A Mighty River, Picking Up Silt And Flotsam Here And Discarding It There, But Growing Ever Wider And Richer.