The Writer, Like The Murderer, Needs A

[y]ou Never Come Right Out And Admit You Have Stretched The Rules For Your Own Benefit. You Do It And Shut Up About It, And Hope You Don't Get Caught, Because If You Are Caught No One Or No One Who Has Any Sense Will Come Forward And Say He Has Done The Same Thing Himself.

Analysts Keep Having To Pick Away At The Scab That The Patient Tries To Form Between Himself And The Analyst To Cover Over His Wounds. The Analyst Keeps The Surface Raw, So That The Wound Will Heal Properly.

Malice Remains Its Animating Impulse.

Poets And Novelists And Playwrights Make Themselves, Against Terrible Resistances, Give Over What The Rest Of Us Keep Safely Locked Within Our Hearts.

The Writer, Like The Murderer, Needs A Motive.