...larger Than Life...i've Never Understood That Expression.

The Truth Was I'd Given Up Waiting Long Ago. The Moment Had Passed, The Door Between The Lives We Could Have Led And The Lives We Led Had Shut In Our Faces. Or Better To Say, In My Face. Grammar Of My Life: As A Rule Of Thumb, Wherever There Appears A Plural, Correct For Singular. Should I Ever Let Slip A Royal We, Put Me Out Of My Misery With A Swift Blow To The Head.

There Are Times When The Kindness Of Strangers Only Makes Things Worse Because One Realizes How Badly One Is In Need Of Kindness And That The Only Source Is A Stranger.

Every Year, The Memories I Have Of My Father Become More Faint, Unclear, And Distant. Once They Were Vivid And True, Then They Became Like Photographs, And Now They Are More Like Photographs Of Photographs.

I Think Of Novels As Houses. You Live In Them Over The Course Of A Long Period, Both As A Reader And As A Writer.

Lonely People Are Always Up In The Middle Of The Night.