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It Was A Silence That Heard Itself, Awful And Beautiful.

Women Get The Short Shrift In History. It's Been Largely Written And Dictated By Men, Or At Least Men Believe That We Own It, And Women Have Really Been In Those Quieter Moments At The Edge Of History. But, Really, They're The Ones Who Are Turning The Cogs And The Wheels And Allowing Things Like The Peace Process To Happen.

I Love Short Stories. They're Like Small Imploding Universes. They Are Very Tightly Bound And Controlled. I'd Been Wanting To Write One For Ages But Just Got Tangled Up In Novels. The Novel Is The Same In The Sense That It Is Also A Universe, But It Explodes Outwards With All That Shrapnel Going In Several Different Directions. I Don't See Too Much Difference In The Forms Except For The Fact That Writing Short Stories Is Like Sprinting Rather Than Long-distance Running.

The Essence Of Intelligence Was To Know When, Or If, To Expose Even The Heart's Deep Need For Instruction.

Long Ago, Long Ago. The Simple Things Come Back To Us. They Rest For A Moment By Our Ribcages Then Suddenly Reach In And Twist Our Hearts A Notch Backward.