Just Like Those Who Are Incurably Ill,

It Isn't That You Subordinate Your Ideas To The Force Of The Facts In Autobiography But That You Construct A Sequence Of Stories To Bind Up The Facts With A Persuasive Hypothesis That Unravels Your History's Meaning.

No Matter How Much You Know, No Matter How Much You Think, No Matter How Much You Plot And You Connive And You Plan, You're Not Superior To Sex. It's A Very Risky Game.... It's Sex That Disorders Our Normally Ordered Lives.

I Write Fiction And I'm Told It's Autobiography, I Write Autobiography And I'm Told It's Fiction, So Since I'm So Dim And They're So Smart, Let Them Decide What It Is Or It Isn't.

I Was Gushing And I Knew It. I Surprised Myself With My Eagerness To Please, Felt Myself Saying Too Much, Explaining Too Much, Overinvolved And Overexcited In The Way You Are When You're A Kid And You Think You've Found A Soul Mate In The New Boy Down The Street And You Feel Yourself Drawn By The Force Of The Courtship And So Act As You Don't Normally Do And A Lot More Openly Than You May Even Want To.

What I Would Really Love To Happen To Me Would Be If I Came Upon An Idea That Would Keep Me Busy Until I Die So I Wouldn't Have To Go Through The Business Of Thinking Up A New Book. But I Wouldn't Mind Writing A Long Book Which Is Going To Occupy Me For The Rest Of My Life.