I Have A Painter's Memory. I Can

A Year And A Half After The End Of The War And The German Occupation, Paris Was Muted And Looked Bruised And Forlorn. Everywhere I Went, I Sensed The Tracks Of The Wolf That Had Tried To Devour The City. But Paris Proved Inedible, As It Had Been Ever Since Its Tribal Beginnings On An Island In The Seine, The Ile De La Cité.

When There's A Terrible Murder People Who Are Interviewed Say, 'this Has Always Been A Quiet Neighborhood.' That Is So Dumb And Uninformed! The Earth Is Not A Quiet Neighborhood. There Isn't Anyplace That's A Quiet Neighborhood. People Are Asking Themselves How To Stay Neat In The Cyclone.

A Good Novel Begins With A Small Question And Ends With A Bigger One.

Life Was An Impenetrable Mystery Cloaked In Babble.

I Taught Writing Classes At The University Of Pennsylvania For A Number Of Years And I Realized That All You Can Do Is Encourage People And Give Them Assignments And Hope They Will Write Them.