Writers Who Pretend That Everything They're Doing

When You Write, You Take The Ball And You Hold It Up To The Light And You Turn It Slowly, And Let People Draw Their Own Conclusions. And Try To Bring Empathy To All Sides Of The Equation.

It Was What You Did, Wolgast Understood; You Started To Tell A Story About Who You Were, And Soon Enough The Lies Were All You Had And You Became That Person.

I Came To Houston For A Job, The Reason Most People Move Halfway Across The Country With A First Grader And A Five-week-old. I Came Here To Teach At Rice.

He Breathed Once More, Holding The Air In His Chest, As If It Were Not Air But Something More--a Sweet Taste Of Freedom, Of All Cares Lifted, Everything Over And Done.

So, Whenever I'm Writing, I'm Writing In The Presence Of All The Other Books I've Read And I Think We All Are.