I Am A Cigarette With A Body

I'm Moving To Nevada. Either There Or Kill Myself.

You're A Beautiful Drunk, Daughter. But You're A Drunk.

And Did You Get What You Wanted From This Life Even So? I Did.

When A Reader Finishes A Wonderful Story And Lays It Aside, He Should Have To Pause For A Minute And Collect Himself.

It's Possible, In A Poem Or Short Story, To Write About Commonplace Things And Objects Using Commonplace But Precise Language, And To Endow Those Things—a Chair, A Window Curtain, A Fork, A Stone, A Woman's Earring—with Immense, Even Startling Power.