Writers Are Not Just People Who Sit

I Have Been Everywhere Because I Don't Know What I'm Looking For.

And So Do People Pass Out Of One's Life And All You Can Remember Of Them Is Their Humanity, A Poor Fitful Thing Of No Dominion, Like Your Own.

Anyone At Any Age Is Able To Tell The Story Of His Or Her Life With Authority.

It Was Evident To Him That The World Composed And Recomposed Itself Constantly In An Endless Process Of Dissatisfaction.

You Can't Remember Sex. You Can Remember The Fact Of It, And Recall The Setting, And Even The Details, But The Sex Of The Sex Cannot Be Remembered, The Substantive Truth Of It, It Is By Nature Self-erasing, You Can Remember Its Anatomy And Be Left With A Judgment As To The Degree Of Your Liking Of It, But Whatever It Is As A Splurge Of Being, As A Loss, As A Charge Of The Conviction Of Love Stopping Your Heart Like Your Execution, There Is No Memory Of It In The Brain, Only The Deduction That It Happened And That Time Passed, Leaving You With A Silhouette That You Want To Fill In Again.