Resentment Is The Most Precious Flower Of

His Own Life Seemed So Solitary, A Fragile Column Supporting Nothing Amidst The Wreckage Of The Years.

This Fear Is One Of The Horrors Of An Author's Life. Where Does Work Come From? What Chance, What Small Episode Will Start The Chain Of Creation? I Once Wrote A Story About A Writer Who Could Not Write Anymore, And My Friend Tennessee Williams Said, 'how Could You Dare Write That Story, It's The Most Frightening Work I Have Ever Read.' I Was Pretty Well Sunk While I Was Writing It.

Doctors, By God; Washing Their Hands, Looking Out Windows, Fiddling With Dreadful Things While You Are Stretched Out On A Table Or Half Undressed On A Chair.

She Wished There Was Some Place Where She Could Go To Hum It Out Loud. Some Kind Of Music Was Too Private To Sing In A House Cram Fall Of People. It Was Funny, Too, How Lonesome A Person Could Be In A Crowded House.

Southerners Are The More Lonely And Spiritually Estranged, I Think, Because We Have Lived So Long In An Artificial Social System That We Insisted Was Natural And Right And Just - When All Along We Knew It Wasn't.