I Think The Northern Ireland Accent Is

Even If You're Going To Die, You Might As Well Die Pretty.

Stories Are There To Be Told, And Each Story Changes With The Telling. Time Changes Them. Logic Changes Them. Grammar Changes Them. History Changes Them. Each Story Is Shifted Side-ways By Each Day That Unfolds. Nothing Ends. The Only Thing That Matters, As Faulkner Once Put It, Is The Human Heart In Conflict With Itself. At The Heart Of All This Is The Possibility, Or Desire, To Create A Piece Of Art That Talks To The Human Instinct For Recovery And Joy.

The War Was About Vanity, He Said. It Was About Old Men Who Couldn't Look In The Mirror Anymore And So They Sent The Young Out To Die. Was Was A Get-together Of The Vain. They Wanted It Simple--hate Your Enemy, Know Nothing Of Him.

What Corrigan Wanted Was A Fully Believable God, One You Could Find In The Grime Of The Everyday... He Consoled Himself With The Fact That, In The Real World, When He Looked Closely Into The Darkness He Might Find The Presence Of A Light, Damaged And Bruised, But A Little Light All The Same. He Wanted, Quite Simply, For The World To Be A Better Place, And He Was In The Habit Of Hoping For It.

If You Sort Of See Yourself Writing Into A Space That You Don't Always Recognize, You Sometimes Learn Things That You Knew, But Weren't Entirely Aware Of. It's Very Liberating For A Writer To Go Into A Space Where She Or He Has Not Gone Before, Because, Instead Of Being A Tourist, You're Like An Explorer Now, And You're Sort Of Lost In This New Idea.