Nobody Does Anything For One Reason.

The 60s Passed And Faded And I Grew Older, And In 1987 Bought A House In Upstate New York, And It Turned Out That John Brown Was Buried Down The Road From My House And That He Had Lived There Longer Than Anywhere Else And His House Was Still Standing.

You Go Out Into The World, You Read Everything You Can Read, You Imitate The Things You Love, And You Learn How Hard It Is To Do. Eventually, You Learn Your Own Vision Of The World, You Learn Your Own Voice And How To Hear It, And You Learn To Write Your Own Work. Writers Today Have As Many Opportunities As My Generation Did, But They Don't See The Examples As Clearly As We Did.

They Were Gone And I Missed Them But Even So I Was Very Happy. For The Rest Of My Life No Matter Where On This Planet Earth I Went And No Matter How Scared Or Confused I Got, I Could Wait Until Dark And Look Up Into The Night Sky And See My Three Friends Again And My Heart Would Swell With Love Of Them And Make Me Strong And Clearheaded.

For Almost Anyone Who Chooses To Be A Writer, Since So Very Few Writers Are Able To Learn A Living From Their Work That Is Equivalent To The Living Earned By The Average Dentist Or Accountant.

It's Hard To Know More About A Person's Life Than What That Person Wants You To Know.