Roads Are A Record Of Those Who

We Treat Desire As A Problem To Be Solved, Address What Desire Is For And Focus On That Something And How To Acquire It Rather Than On The Nature And The Sensation Of Desire, Though Often It Is The Desire Between Us And The Object Of Desire That Fills The Space In Between With The Blue Of Longing.

As For Me, The Grounds Of My Hope Have Always Been That History Is Wilder Than Our Imagination Of It And That The Unexpected Shows Up Far More Regularly Than We Ever Dream.

Before Writers Are Writers They Are Readers, Living In Books, Through Books, In The Lives Of Others That Are Also The Heads Of Others, In That Act That Is So Intimate And Yet So Alone.

Violence Always Seems To Me The Worst Form Of Tyranny. It Deprives People Of Their Rights, Including The Right To Live.

Language Is Like A Road, It Cannot Be Perceived All At Once Because It Unfolds In Time, Whether Heard Or Read. This Narrative Or Temporal Element Has Made Writing And Walking Resemble Each Other.