Your Blood Coagulates Beautifully.

Though There Is One Part Of Writing That Is Solid And You Do It No Harm By Talking About It, The Other Is Fragile, And If You Talk About It, The Structure Cracks And You Have Nothing.

You Make Something From Things That Have Happened And From Things That Exist And From All Things That You Know And All Those You Cannot Know, And You Make Something Through Your Invention That Is Truer Than Anything True And Alive, And If You Make It Well Enough, You Give It Immortality.

There Is No Left And Right In Writing. There Is Only Good And Bad Writing.

You’ll Ache. And You’re Going To Love It. It Will Crush You. And You’re Still Going To Love All Of It.

In The Spring Mornings I Would Work Early While My Wife Still Slept. The Windows Were Open Wide And The Cobbles Of The Street Were Drying After The Rain.