In Writing, Sex Doesn't Matter; It's The

Any Writer Of Any Worth At All Hopes To Play Only A Pocket-torch Of Light - And Rarely, Through Genius, A Sudden Flambeau - Into The Bloody Yet Beautiful Labyrinth Of Human Experience, Of Being.

Time Is Change; We Measure Its Passage By How Much Things Alter.

There's No Tiling Moral About Beauty.

I'm A Candle Flame That Sways In Currents Of Air You Can't See. You Need To Be The One Who Steadies Me To Burn.

I Don't Understand Writers Who Feel They Shouldn't Have To Do Any Of The Ordinary Things Of Life, Because I Think That This Is Necessary: One Has To Keep In Touch With That... The Ordinary Action Of Taking A Dress Down To The Dry Cleaner's Or Spraying Some Plants Infected With Greenfly Is A Very Sane And Good Thing To Do. It Brings One Back, So To Speak. It Also Brings The World Back.