Getting Even Is One Reason For Writing.

We Must Take Our Sentences Seriously, Which Means We Must Understand Them Philosophically, And The Odd Thing Is That The Few Who Do, Who Take Them With Utter Sober Seriousness, The Utter Sober Seriousness Of Right-wing Parsons And Political Saviors, The Owners Of Pomeranians, Are The Liars Who Want To Be Believed, The Novelists And Poets, Who Know That The Creatures They Imagine Have No Other Being Than The Sounding Syllables Which The Reader Will Speak Into His Own Weary And Distracted Head. There Are No Magic Words. To Say The Words Is Magical Enough.

I Do Have A Very Conscious Desire Not To Be Academic. I'm Antiacademic. I Hate Jargon. I Hate That Sort Of Pretension. I Am A Person Who [commits] Breaches Of Decorum - Not In Private Life, But In My Work. They Are Part Of My Mode Of Operation. That Kind Of Playfulness Is Part Of My Nature In General. The Paradox That, In A Way, To Take Something Very Seriously, You Can't Always Be Serious About It.

We Converse As We Live By Repeating, By Combining And Recombining A Few Elements Over And Over Again Just As Nature Does When Of Elementary Particles It Builds A World.

I Write Because I Hate. A Lot. Hard.

It’s Not The Word Made Flesh We Want In Writing, In Poetry And Fiction, But The Flesh Made Word