I Don’t Think Any Man

The Awful Thing, As A Kid Reading, Was That You Came To The End Of The Story, And That Was It. I Mean, It Would Be Heartbreaking That There Was No More Of It.

O Love, Where Are You Leading Me Now?

Hopefully, I Write What I Don't Know.

The Pattern Of The Narrative Never Of Necessity Wants To End, It Never Has To.

I Did However Used To Think, You Know, In The Woods Walking, And As A Kid Playing In The Woods, That There Was A Kind Of Immanence There — That Woods, And Places Of That Order, Had A Sense, A Kind Of Presence, That You Could Feel; That There Was Something Peculiarly, Physically Present, A Feeling Of Place Almost Conscious ... Like God. It Evoked That.