I'm More Interested In Writing Than In

Where Did I Get The Nerve To Think I Could Handle American Teenagers? Ignorance. That's Where I Got The Nerve.

You Never Know When You Might Come Home And Find Mam Sitting By The Fire Chatting With A Woman And A Child, Strangers. Always A Woman And Child. Mam Finds Them Wandering The Streets And If They Ask, Could You Spare A Few Pennies, Miss? Her Heart Breaks. She Never Has Money So She Invites Them Home For Tea And A Bit Of Fried Bread And If It's A Bad Night She'll Let Them Sleep By The Fire On A Pile Of Rags In The Corner. The Bread She Gives Them Always Means Less For Us And If We Complain She Says There Are Always People Worse Off And We Can Surely Spare A Little From What We Have.

They All Went Into The Bar Business. Which Was A Mistake, Because They Began To Sip At The Merchandise And It Set Them Back, Set Us All Back. Well, Them More Than I.

I Just Have To Proceed As Usual. No Matter What Happens, Nothing Helps With The Writing Of The Next Book.

I'm Not One Of Those James Joyce Intellectuals Who Can Stand Back And Look At The Whole Edifice... It Was A Slow Process For Me To Just Crawl Out Of It, Like A Snake Leaving His Skin Behind.