Let The Flesh Instruct The Mind.

It Was As If The Empty Nights Were Made For Thinking Of Him. And Sometimes I Found Myself So Vividly Aware Of Him It Was As If He Had Only Just Left The Room And The Ring Of His Voice Were Still There. And Somehow, There Was A Disturbing Comfort In That, And, Despite Myself, I’d Envision His Face.

All My Life,i've Been Afraid Of Things, As A Child And A Woman Must Be. I Lied About It Naturally. I Fancied Myself A Witch And Walked In Dark Streets To Punish Myself For My Doubts. But I Knew What It Meant To Be Afraid.

There Is A Horrifying Loneliness At Work In This Time. No, Listen To Me. We Lived Six And Seven To A Room In Those Days, When I Was Still Among The Living. The City Streets Were Seas Of Humanity; And Now In These High Buildings Dim-witted Souls Hover In Luxurious Privacy, Gazing Through The Television Window At A Faraway World Of Kissing And Touching. It Is Bound To Produce Some Great Fund Of Common Knowledge, Some New Level Of Human Awareness, A Curious Skepticism, To Be So Alone.

If You Want To Be A Writer, Write. Write And Write And Write. If You Stop, Start Again. Save Everything That You Write. If You Feel Blocked, Write Through It Until You Feel Your Creative Juices Flowing Again. Write. Writing Is What Makes A Writer, Nothing More And Nothing Less.

None Of Us Really Changes Over Time. We Only Become More Fully What We Are.