You Shout Because It Makes You Brave

I've Never Made An Outline For Any Novel That I've Written. Never.

War Is The Form Nostalgia Takes When Men Are Hard-pressed To Say Something Good About Their Country.

They Passed Out Of The Shade Beneath The Eaves And Flew Into Sunglare And Silence And It Was An Action She Only Partly Saw, Elusive And Mutely Beautiful, The Birds So Sunstruck They Were Consumed By Light, Disembodied, Turned Into Something Sheer And Fleet And Scatter-bright.

I've Always Felt That My Subject Was Living In Dangerous Times.

I Was Always Younger Than Anyone Around Me. One Day It Began To Change.