If You Write Enough, You Begin To

God Is The God Of The People Who Are At Their Wits End, Who Are Right Up Against It With Their Backs To The Wall, And He Delights To Come To Our Help When We Need Him Most.

Sometimes You Are Aware When Your Great Moments Are Happening, And Sometimes They Rise From The Past. Perhaps It's The Same With People.

I Write Down Portions, Maybe Fragments, And Perhaps An Imperfect View Of What Im Hoping To Write. Out Of That, I Keep Trying To Find Exactly What I Want.

One Is Seduced And Battered In Turn. The Result Is Presumably Wisdom. Wisdom! We Are Clinging To Life Like Lizards. Why Is It So Difficult To Assemble Those Things That Really Matter In Life And To Dwell Among Them Only? I Am Referring To Certain Landscapes, Persons, Beasts, Books, Rooms, Meteorological Conditions, Fruits. In Fact, I Insist On It. A Letter Is Like A Poem, It Leaps Into Life And Shows Very Clearly The Marks, Perhaps I Should Say Thumbprints, Of An Unwilling Or Unready Composer.

The Dreams Are The Skeleton Of All Reality.