If I Ever Get To 100, I'd

Some Writers, Of Course, Simply Write, As They Feel They Are Driven To Do, By Outer/inner Inspirations. If, After The Work Is Written And, Hopefully, Published, Others Respond -- That Is The Champagne. But We, Or Some Of Us, Don't Write For The Champagne. We Write Because We Write.

Madness. I Did Not Get Myself Born To Die. I Have Better Things To Do.

I Hate The Way, Once You Start To Know Someone, Care About Them, Their Behavior Can Distress You, Even When It's Unreasonable And Not Your Fault, Even If You Were Really Trying To Be Careful, Tactful.

I Must Suppose That Reading Wonderful Writers May, Inadvertently, Teach An Avid Reader A Great Deal -- Not Only About Life And Other Matters, But About How To Write. Therefore Doubtless I Have Benefited From Frequent Immersions In The Glowing Genius Of Others. It Would Be Nice To Think So. (i Do Actually Think So). But To Improve My Skills Will Never Be The Prompting Force Of My Reading -- That's Just Literary Lust.

Dawn Rose From The Desert And Turned The River To Wine.