In Those Days It Was Either Live

I Suspect That All The Agony That Goes Into Writing Is Borne Precisely Because The Writer Longs For Acceptance-but It Must Be Acceptance On His Own Terms.

If Only All The Contradictory Voices Shouting In My Head Would Calm Down And Sing A Song In Unison, Whatever It Was I Wouldn't Care As Long As They Sang Without Dissonance.

If The Word Has The Potency To Revive And Make Us Free, It Has Also The Power To Bind, Imprison And Destroy.

Life Is As The Sea, Art A Ship In Which Man Conquers Life's Crushing Formlessness, Reducing It To A Course, A Series Of Swells, Tides And Wind Currents Inscribed On A Chart.

Good Fiction Is Made Of That Which Is Real, And Reality Is Difficult To Come By.