One Does Not Know Where Love Will

Her Laughter Was A Shiny Thing, Like Pewter Flung High In The Air.

I Wrote To Explain My Own Life To Myself, Stories Are The Vessels I Use To Interpret The World To Myself.

Good Writing ... Involves The Agony Of Turning Profoundly Difficult Thoughts Into Lucid Form, Then Forcing Them Into The Tight-fitting Uniform Of Language, Making Them Visible And Clear.

I Never Read My Reviews... Not Even The Good Ones. Barbra Streisand Once Told Me, If Just One Person In The Audience Doesn't Applaud, It Bothers Her. I'm The Same Way. I'd Be Devastated To Read That Someone Didn't Like My Work.

I Had Come To A Place Where I Was Meant To Be. I Don't Mean Anything So Prosaic As A Sense Of Coming Home. This Was Different, Very Different. It Was Like Arriving At A Place Much Safer Than Home.