I'm Grateful That, After An Early Life

There Are Infinite Shades Of Grey. Writing Often Appears So Black And White.

Books Are Solitudes In Which We Meet.

I Often Think That The Reason Capitalism Hasn't Completely Destroyed Everything Is That A Huge Amount Of Anti-capitalist Endeavor Goes On, From Labors Of Love, Nurture, Friendship, And Barter To Gift Economies And Different Kinds Of Exchanges, Not Just One Alternate Model But A Whole Host Of Other Ways In Which We Engage With Each Other And With The World That Aren't Financial And Debt-based.

A Book Is A Heart That Only Beats In The Chest Of Another.

I've Been Gratified To See Over The Twenty Or So Years Of My Writing Life The West Become Less Of A Colony Of The East; Maybe New Technologies And Too Much Travel Undermine The Idea Of Provinciality.