The Process Hasn't Changed, But The Writer

My Enduring Feeling About René Lévesque Is That If He Had Chosen To Hang Me, Even As He Tightened The Rope Round My Neck, He Would Have Complained About How Humiliating It Was For Him To Spring The Trapdoor. And Then, Once I Was Swinging In The Wind, He Would Blame My Ghost For Having Obliged Him To Murder, Thereby Imposing A Guilt Trip On A Sweet, Self-effacing, Downtrodden Francophone.

Each Man Creates God In His Own Image.

Wherever I Travel I'm Too Late. The Orgy Has Moved Elsewhere.

If You're Writing A Novel, You're In A Room For Three Or Four Years. There's Not Much Coming In From The Outside.

In Canada, Nobody Is Ever Overthrown Because Nobody Gives A Damn.