It Is When You Are Angry That

Art Is Whether Or Not There Is A Scream In Him Wanting To Get Out In A Special Way.

A Writer Is A Strange Instrument Of Our Species, A Harp Of Sorts, Fine-tuned To The Dark Contradictions Of Life.

In Russia I Went To A Great Yeshiva, And In America I Work In A Carnival.

All Of Us Grow Up In Particular Realities - A Home, Family, A Clan, A Small Town, A Neighborhood. Depending Upon How We're Brought Up, We Are Either Deeply Aware Of The Particular Reading Of Reality Into Which We Are Born, Or We Are Peripherally Aware Of It.

In Our Time ... A Man Whose Enemies Are Faceless Bureaucrats Almost Never Wins. It Is Our Equivalent To The Anger Of The Gods In Ancient Times. But Those Gods You Must Understand Were Far More Imaginative Than Our Tiny Bureaucrats. They Spoke From Mountaintops Not From Tiny Airless Offices. They Rode Clouds. They Were Possessed Of Passion. They Had Voices And Names. Six Thousand Years Of Civilization Have Brought Us To This.