We Are Homesick Most For The Places

Falling In Love Is The Easiest Thing In The World. It's Standing In Love That Matters.

A Writer Soon Discovers He Has No Single Identity But Lives The Lives Of All The People He Creates And His Weathers Are Independent Of The Actual Day Around Him. I Live With The People I Create And It Has Always Made My Essential Loneliness Less Keen.

We Are Torn Between Nostalgia For The Familiar And An Urge For The Foreign And Strange. As Often As Not, We Are Homesick Most For The Places We Have Never Known.

The Writer Must Hew The Phantom Rock.

There's Nothing That Makes You So Aware Of The Improvisation Of Human Existence As A Song Unfinished. Or An Old Address Book.