Any Rainy Summer Morning, Of Course, Has

The Art Of Living Your Life Has A Lot To Do With Getting Over Loss. The Less The Past Haunts You, The Better.

It's Interesting To Leave A Place, Interesting Even To Think About It. Leaving Reminds Us Of What We Can Part With And What We Can't, Then Offers Us Something New To Look Forward To, To Dream About.

It's Been My Habit Of Mind, Over These Years, To Understand That Every Situation In Which Human Beings Are Involved Can Be Turned On Its Head. Everything Someone Assures Me To Be True Might Not Be. Every Pillar Of Belief The World Rests On May Or May Not Be About To Explode. Most Things Don't Stay The Way They Are Very Long. Knowing This, However, Has Not Made Me Cynical. Cynical Means Believing That Good Isn't Possible; And I Know For A Fact That Good Is. I Simply Take Nothing For Granted And Try To Be Ready For The Change That's Soon To Come.

I'm Trying To Cause People To Be Interested In The Particulars Of Their Lives Because I Think That's One Thing Literature Can Do For Us. It Can Say To Us: Pay Attention. Pay Closer Attention. Pay Stricter Attention To What You Say To Your Son.

My Father Died In My Arms. That's Tumult. That's Everything Exploding.