Certain Books Come To Meet Me, As

Disappointment Tears The Bearable Film Off Life.

Karen, Her Elbows Folded On The Deck-rail, Wanted To Share With Someone The Pleasure In Being Alone: This Is The Paradox Of Any Happy Solitude. She Had Never Landed At Cork, So This Hill And That Hill Beyond Were As Unexpected As Pictures At Which You Say "oh Look!" Nobody Was Beside Her To Share The Moment, Which Would Have Been Imperfect With Anyone Else There.

Characters Are Not Created By Writers. They Pre-exist And Have To Be Found.

What Must Novel Dialogue . . . Really Be And Do? It Must Be Pointed, Intentional, Relevant. It Must Crystallize Situation. It Must Express Character. It Must Advance Plot. During Dialogue, The Characters Confront One Another. The Confrontation Is In Itself An Occasion. Each One Of These Occasions, Throughout The Novel, Is Unique.

Not Only Is There No Question Of Solitude, But In The Long Run We May Not Choose Our Company.