The Heart Does Not Go Backward. Only

It's Funny; In This Era Of E-mail And Voice Mail And All Those Things That Even I Did Not Grow Up With, A Plain Old Paper Letter Takes On Amazing Intimacy.

Every Writer Hopes His Or Her Book Will Be Its Own Thing.

My Guess Is That He Remembers Some Of Me, Some Of Us Together, And The Rest Rolled Off Him Like Topsoil In A Flash Flood.

I've Noticed Dracula Was Often As Practical A Fellow As He Was A Nasty One.

Boys Mystified Me, Although I Dreamed Vaguely Of Men.