At The Center Of Everything

Flies Die In So Many Lonely Places. -roberta Rohbeson

When We Finish A Book, Why Do We Hold It In Both Hands And Gaze At It As If It Were Somehow Alive?

But Paper And Ink Have Conjuring Abilities Of Their Own. Arrangements Of Lines And Shapes, Of Letters And Words On A Series Of Pages Make A World We Can Dwell And Travel In.

When You Start To Think Of The Arts As Not This Thing That Is Going To Get You Somewhere In Terms Of Becoming An Artist Or Becoming Famous Or Whatever It Is That People Do, But Rather A Way Of Making Being In The World Not Just Bearable, But Fascinating, Then It Starts To Get Interesting Again.

But When The Thing That Is Scaring You Is Already Jesus, Who Are You Supposed To Pray To?