Writers Do Not Find Subjects: Subjects Find

One's Sentiments -- Call Them That -- One's Fidelities Are So Instinctive That One Hardly Knows They Exist: Only When They Are Betrayed Or, Worse Still, When One Betrays Them Does One Realize Their Power.

The Child Lives In The Book; But Just As Much The Book Lives In The Child.

... Any Fictionis Bound To Be Transposed Autobiography.

Each Of Us Keeps, Battened Down Inside Himself, A Sort Of Lunatic Giant; Impossible Socially, But Full Scale; And It's The Knockings And Battering We Sometimes Hear In Each Other That Keep Our Banter From Utter Banality.

Wariness Had Driven Away Poetry; From Hesitating To Feel Came The Moment When You No Longer Could.