I Am The Sole Author Of The

And So It Happened Again, The Daily Miracle Whereby Interiority Opens Out And Brings To Bloom The Million-petalled Flower Of Being Here, In The World, With Other People. Neither As Hard As She Had Thought It Might Be Nor As Easy As It Appeared.

We Cannot Love Something Solely Because It Has Been Ignored. It Must Also Be Worthy Of Our Attention.

Some People--samad For Example--will Tell You Not To Trust People Who Overuse The Phrase "at The End Of The Day"--football Managers, Estate Agents, Salesmen Of All Kinds--but Archie's Never Felt That Way About It. Prudent Use Of Said Phrase Never Failed To Convince Him That His Interlocutor Was Getting To The Bottom Of Things, To The Fundamentals.

Something In Me Was Changed By Lincoln In The Bardo, And The Great Sublime/grotesque Risk Of [george Saunders'] Ghosts Was A Part Of It.

I Lost Many Literary Battles The Day I Read 'their Eyes Were Watching God.' I Had To Concede That Occasionally Aphorisms Have Their Power. I Had To Give Up The Idea That Keats Had A Monopoly On The Lyrical.