I Write Because I Hate. A Lot.

Getting Even Is One Reason For Writing.

For The Speedy Reader Paragraphs Become A Country The Eye Flies Over Looking For Landmarks, Reference Points, Airports, Restrooms, Passages Of Sex.

The Death Of God Represents Not Only The Realization That Gods Have Never Existed, But The Contention That Such A Belief Is No Longer Even Irrationally Possible: That Neither Reason Nor The Taste And Temper Of The Times Condones It. The Belief Lingers On, Of Course, But It Does So Like Astrology Or A Faith In A Flat Earth.

For Me, The Short Story Is Not A Character Sketch, A Mouse Trap, An Epiphany, A Slice Of Suburban Life. It Is The Flowering Of A Symbol Center. It Is A Poem Grafted Onto Sturdier Stock.

The World Of Conceptualized Ideas Is Quite Wonderful, Even When It's - Like Aristotle's Physics - An Outmoded Book. The Physics Is Not True. But The Reasoning Is Dazzling.