At Some Point I Believe One Has

Anyone Who Is Going To Be A Writer Knows Enough At Fifteen To Write Several Novels.

A Body Without Bones Would Be A Limp Impossible Mess, So A Day Without Steady Routine Would Be Disruptive And Chaotic.

What Can I Have That I Still Want?

We Are All, Whether We Know It Or Not, In Search Of A Way To Enrich, To Drink During The Fizz, To Inhale Deeper Our Gifts, In A Desperation For Some Little Understanding Before Death.

I Feel More Alive When I'm Writing Than I Do At Any Other Time--except Maybe When I'm Making Love.