Their Silence Comfortable. Something Unfolding. But What?

For If Jack Buggit Could Escape From The Pickle Jar, If A Bird With A Broken Neck Could Fly Away, What Else Might Be Possible? Water May Be Older Than Light, Diamonds Crack In Hot Goat's Blood, Mountaintops Give Off Cold Fire, Forests Appear In Mid-ocean, It May Happen That A Crab Is Caught With The Shadow Of A Hand On Its Back, And That The Wind Be Imprisoned In A Bit Of Knotted String. And It May Be That Love Sometimes Occurs Without Pain Or Misery.

Develop Craftsmanship Through Years Of Wide Reading.

Change Itself Is What Fascinates Me. I Am Drawn, As A Moth To The Flame, By Edge Situations, By Situations Of Metamorphosis.

We Face Up To Awful Things Because We Can't Go Around Them, Or Forget Them. The Sooner You Get It Over With, The Sooner You Say 'yes, It Happened, And There's Nothing I Can Do About It,' The Sooner You Can Get On With Your Own Life. You've Got Children To Bring Up. So You've Got To Get Over It. What We Have To Get Over, Somehow We Do. Even The Worst Things.

In A Rough Way The Short Story Writer Is To The Novelist As A Cabinetmaker Is To A House Carpenter.