A Writer Should Always Feel Like He's

You Have Started The Book With This Bubble Over Your Head That Contains A Cathedral Full Of Fire - That Contains A Novel So Vast And Great And Penetrating And Bright And Dark That It Will Put All Other Novels Ever Written To Shame. And Then, As You Get Towards The End, You Begin To Realise, No, It's Just This Book.

How We Dress Is, As Far As I Can Tell, The Only Inescapably Public Choice That We Have. People Don't Need To Know What You Eat, People Don't Need To Know Who You Have Sex With. But There's No Escaping What You Wear And The Fact That You've Chosen It. Even If You Insist That You Don't Care About Fashion, That's Your Statement. It's Really One Realm Of Life Where You Are Forced To Make Your Own Statement.

What Do You Do When You're No Longer The Hero Of Your Own Story?

There Is Still That Singular Perfection, And It's Perfect In Part Because It Seemed, At The Time, So Clearly To Promise More.

Perhaps, In The Extravagance Of Youth, We Give Away Our Devotions Easily And All But Arbitrarily, On The Mistaken Assumption That We’ll Always Have More To Give.