Memory Is The Sense Of Loss, And

And Often Enough, When We Think We Are Protecting Ourselves, We Are Struggling Against Our Rescuer.

Two Questions I Can't Really Answer About Fiction Are 1) Where It Comes From, And 2) Why We Need It. But That We Do Create It And Also Crave It Is Beyond Dispute.

The Moon Looks Wonderful In This Warm Evening Light, Just As A Candle Flame Looks Beautiful In The Light Of Morning. Light Within Light...it Seems To Me To Be A Metaphor For The Human Soul, The Singular Light Within That Great General Light Of Existence.

My Politics, And My Religion As Well, Are Based Entirely On The Loveliness And Value Of Ordinary Human Lives. The Creaky Apparatus Called Politics Shelters Or Oppresses Or Threatens These Lives, And Is Therefore Of Interest.

Pity And Charity May Be At Root An Attempt To Propitiate The Dark Powers That Have Not Touched Us Yet.