Very Broadly, Literature Concerns Itself With The

Tennis: The Most Perfect Combination Of Athleticism, Artistry, Power, Style, And Wit. A Beautiful Game, But One So Remorselessly Travestied By The Passage Of Time.

You Can't Sort Of Write The Novel As If You're Taking Dictation From Heaven.

The True Manipulator Never Has A Reputation For Manipulating.

Because We Are All Poets Or Babies In The Middle Of The Night, Struggling With Being.

Jane Was My Wicked Stepmother: She Was Generous, Affectionate And Resourceful; She Salvaged My Schooling And I Owe Her An Unknowable Debt For That. One Flaw: Sometimes, Early On, She Would Tell Me Things Designed To Make Me Think Less Of My Mother, And I Would Wave Her Away, Saying, Jane, This Just Backfires And Makes Me Think Less Of You.