Youth Is The Only Sexy Tragedy. It's

She Is Overtaken By A Sensation Of Unbeing. There Is No Other Word For It.

Oh, All You Immigrants And Visionaries, What Do You Hope To Find Here, Who Do You Hope To Become?

Language In Fiction Is Made Up Of Equal Parts Meaning And Music. The Sentences Should Have Rhythm And Cadence, They Should Engage And Delight The Inner Ear.

There Is A Beauty In The World, Though It's Harsher Than We Expect It To Be.

We Throw Our Parties; We Abandon Our Families To Live Alone In Canada; We Struggle To Write Books That Do Not Change The World, Despite Our Gifts And Our Unstinting Efforts, Our Most Extravagant Hopes. We Live Our Lives, Do Whatever We Do, And Then We Sleep--it's As Simple And Ordinary As That. A Few Jump Out Of Windows Or Drown Themselves Or Take Pills; More Die By Accident; And Most Of Us, The Vast Majority, Are Slowly Devoured By Some Disease Or, If We're Very Fortunate, By Time Itself.