I Live In Cullowhee, North Carolina. That's

But Nothing Is Solid And Permanent. Our Lives Are Raised On The Shakiest Foundations. You Don't Need To Read History Books To Know That. You Only Have To Know The History Of Your Own Life.

The Woman Doesn't Look Up. It's As If She's Deaf. Maybe She Is. Maybe She's Like The Cambodian Women I've Read About, The Ones Who Witnessed So Many Atrocities That They Have Willed Themselves Blind. Maybe That's What You Have To Do Sometimes To Survive. You Kill Off Part Of Yourself, Your Hearing Or Eyesight, Your Capacity For Hope.

What I've Become Convinced Makes A Writer Are The Days You Hate It, The Days You'd Rather Stick Those Pencils In Your Eyes. Sometimes I Almost Punish Myself - If I'm Not Going Be Able To Write, I'm Not Going Be Able To Do Anything Else. I Just Sit There And Wait.

I Think Writing A Poem Is Like Being A Greyhound. Writing A Novel Is Like Being A Mule. You Go Up One Long Row, Then Down Another, And Try Not To Look Up Too Often To See How Far You Still Have To Go.

One Thing's Sure And Nothing Surer. The Rich Get Richer And The Poor Get- Children