She Was An Artist. She Held Opposites

Any Rainy Summer Morning, Of Course, Has The Seeds Of Gloomy Alienation Sown In. But A Rainy Summer Morning Far From Home - When Your Personal Clouds Don't Move But Hang - Can Easily Produce The Feeling Of The World As Seen From The Grave. This I Know.

If You Lose All Hope, You Can Always Find It Again.

Even Though I Get A Lot Done With My Solitude, And I Make The Best Use Of It Possible, I Always Think Solitude Is An Interlude In A Period Of Time, Which Is Populated By Others.

Someone Wanted Me To Write A Profile For Espn About The Commissioner Of Baseball, And I Said, "he's Just Some Suit! Some Republican. No!" I Mean If You Want Me To Write About Baseball, Boxing Or Football, I'll Write About Those Things Because I Watch Them, I Think About Them A Lot And I Like Them. But I Don't Want To Write About Barry Bonds.

For A Time After My Divorce Everything Began To Seem Profoundly Ironic To Me. I Found Myself Thinking Of Other Peoples' Worries As Sources Of Amusement And Private Derision Which I Thought About At Night To Make Myself Feel Better.