No Matter How Grave The Secret, How

When Your Fight Has Purpose - To Free You From Something, To Interfere On The Behalf Of An Innocent - It Has A Hope Of Finality. When The Fight Is About Unraveling - When It Is About Your Name, The Places To Which Your Blood Is Anchored, The Attachment Of Your Name To Some Landmark Or Event - There Is Nothing But Hate, And The Long, Slow Progression Of People Who Feed On It And Are Fed It, Meticulously, By The Ones Who Come Before Them. Then The Fight Is Endless, And Comes In Waves And Waves, But Always Retains Its Capacity To Surprise Those Who Hope Against It.

The Dead Are Celebrated. The Dead Are Loved. They Give Something To The Living. Once You Put Something Into The Ground, Doctor, You Always Know Where To Find It.

When Men Die, They Die In Fear", He Said. "they Take Everything They Need From You, And As A Doctor It Is Your Job To Give It, To Comfort Them, To Hold Their Hand. But Children Die How They Have Been Living - In Hope. They Don't Know What's Happening, So They Expect Nothing, They Don't Ask You To Hold Their Hand - But You End Up Needing Them To Hold Yours. With Children, You're On Your Own. Do You Understand?

My Road To Publishing Actually Came Through A Colleague Who Connected Me To My Agent, And The Faculty At Cornell Was Very Supportive.

I Am Very Interested In Place, And The Influences Of Place On Characters.