Fiction Is The Only Way To Redeem

It's Hard To Make Progress With Grief.

Addictions Do Come In Handy Sometimes: At Least You Have To Get Out Of Bed For Them.

My Life Looked Good On Paper - Where, In Fact, Almost All Of It Was Being Lived.

The Only Writer Who Gives Me Unfeigned Pleasure Is P.g. Wodehouse. And Even Him I Find A Bit Heavy. He Takes A Lot Out Of Me. Scratching My Hair, With Soft Whistles, With Lips Aquiver, I Frown Over Sunset At Blandings.

Only In Art Will The Lion Lie Down With The Lamb, And The Rose Grow Without Thorn.