One Of The Things I Rarely Do

I Think We're Always In Some Ways Writing To The Teachers Who Gave Us Early Love.

I Can't Understand How People Can Settle For Having Just One Life. I Remember We Were In English Class And We Were Talking About That Poem By - That One Guy. David Frost. 'two Roads Diverged In A Yellow Wood-' You Know This Poem, Right? 'two Roads Diverged In A Yellow Wood, And Sorry I Could Not Travel Both And Be One Traveler, Long I Stood And Looked Down One As Far As I Could, To Where It Bent In The Undergrowth-" "i Loved That Poem. But I Remember Thinking To Myself: Why? How Come You Can't Travel Both? That Seemed Really Unfair To Me.

I've Had A Lot Of Different Lives. I Was Adopted, I Grew Up In Nebraska, And Then I Went To Northwestern... Then I Had This Really Extraordinary, Different Life Than My Parents.

I Think That The Way That I Write Stories Is By Instinct. You Have Some Basic Ideas - A Character, Or An Image, Or A Situation That Sounds Compelling - And Then You Just Feel Your Way Around Until You Find The Edges Of Your Story. It's Like Going Into A Dark Room... You Stumble Around Until You Find The Walls And Then Inch Your Way To The Light Switch.

At A Certain Point, You Must Be Able To Slip Loose. At A Certain Point, You Found That You Had Been Set Free. You Could Be Anyone, He Thought. You Could Be Anyone.