The Attention One Gets From Being A

Perhaps It Is Our Fear, That In The Silence Between Stories, In The Moment Of Falling, The Fear That We Will Never Find The One Story Which Will Save Us, And So We Lunge For Another, And We Feel Safe Again, If Only For As Long As We Are Telling It.

Everything We Do, I'd Imagine, Influences Everything We Will Do.

If You're Going To Write About Someone's Life, You Don't Just Use Them For Wallpaper. You Have To Honor And Respect That Life.

If It Had Been A Heart Attack, The Newspapermight Have Used The Word Massive,as If A Mountain Range Had Openedinside Her, But Insteadit Used The Word Suddenly, A Light Coming Onin An Empty Room. The Telephonefell From My Shoulder, A Black Parrot Repeatingsomething Happened, Something Awfula Sunday, Dusky. If It Had Beenterminal, We Could Have Cradled Heras She Grew Smaller, Wiped Her Mouth,said Good-bye. But It Was Sudden,how Overnight We Could Be Orphaned& The World Became A Bell We'd Crawl Inside& The Ringing All We'd Eat.

Perhaps Everyone Has A Story That Could Break Your Heart.