Every Corny Thing That's Said About Living

I Really Believed That Anything At All Was Worth Writing About If You Cared About It Enough, And That The Best And Only Necessary Justification For Writing Any Particular Story Was That I Cared About It.

Winter In The Country Is Very White. There Is Black Grit On All The Shoulders Of The Roads And On The Big Mounds From The Plows, And All The Cars Are Filthy, But The Fields Are Dazzling And Untouched And Pristine.

I Remember Three- And Four-week-long Snow Days, And Drifts So Deep A Small Child, Namely Me, Could Get Lost In Them. No Such Winter Exists In The Record, But That's How Ohio Winters Seemed To Me When I Was Little - Silent, Silver, Endless, And Dreamy.

Oversized Houses, Like Oversized Cars, Seem To Be A Particularly American Fixation.

I'm Much More Willing To Buy A Novel Electronically By Someone I Don't Know. Because If Halfway Through I Think, I Don't Really Like This, I Can Just Stop. I Can't Throw Books Out, Even If I Think They're Crummy. I Feel Like I've Got To Give It To The Library. I've Got To Loan It To Somebody, Or I Keep It On My Shelf. It's Like A Plant.