If A Man Is To Lose His

While I Love To Read Contemporary Fiction, I'm Not Drawn To Writing It. Perhaps It's Because The Former Journalist In Me Is Too Inhibited By The Press Of Reality; When I Think About Writing Of My Own Time I Always Think About Nonfiction Narratives. Or Perhaps It's Just That I Find The Present Too Confounding.

I Was Really Interested In How Marriages Work, How You Can, You Know, Be In Love With Somebody And Spend Many Years With Your Lives Intertwined, But In The End Another Soul Can Be Fundamentally Unknowable. And I Think That The Stress Of War, When One Party Goes Away And The Other Has To Deal At Home, Is A Really Testing Time In A Lot Of Marriages.

I Swim In A Sea Of Words. They Flow Around Me And Through Me And, By A Process That Is Not Fully Clear To Me, Some Delicate Hidden Membrane Draws Forth The Stuff That Is The Necessary Condition Of My Life.

If There Is One Class Of Person I Have Never Quite Trusted, It Is A Man Who Knows No Doubt.

And So, As Generally Happens, Those Who Have Most Give Least, And Those With Less Somehow Make Shrift To Share.