I'm Most Honest About Writing When I'm

You Say You Want To Talk, But You Don't . You Stonewall Me.

I Cannot Believe Homosexuality Is That Much Fun. Heterosexuality Certainly Is Not.

I Am Very Selfish, Really. I Lived For Love.

You Become A Different Writer When You Approach A Short Story. When Things Are Not Always Having To Represent Other Things, You Find Real Human Beings Begin To Cautiously Appear On Your Pages.

And So It Happened Again, The Daily Miracle Whereby Interiority Opens Out And Brings To Bloom The Million-petalled Flower Of Being Here, In The World, With Other People. Neither As Hard As She Had Thought It Might Be Nor As Easy As It Appeared.