How Delightful To Find A Friend In

When I'm Not Writing Or Reading, I'm Thinking About Both.

An Object, After All, Is What Makes Infinity Private.

The Delirium And Horror Of The East. The Dusty Catastrophe Of Asia. Green Only On The Banner Of The Prophet. Nothing Grows Here Except Mustaches.

In Poetic Thought, The Role Of The Subconscious Is Played By Euphony.

...in The Business Of Writing What One Accumulates Is Not Expertise But Uncertainties. Which Is But Another Name For Craft.