I Read In Order To

What I Felt Then I Feel Now: The Inexorable, Unchanging Interior Hum Of Doubt And Hope.

Fiction Does Not Invent Out Of A Vacuum, But It Invents; And What It Invents Is, First, The Fabric And Cadence Of Language, And Then A Slant Of Idea That Sails Out Of These As A Fin Lifts From The Sea.

One Reason Writers Write Is Out Of Revenge. Life Hurts; Certain Ideas And Experiences Hurt; One Wants To Clarify, To Set Out Illuminations, To Replay The Old Bad Scenes And Get The Treppenworte Said -- The Words One Didn't Have The Strength Or Ripeness To Say When Those Words Were Necessary For One's Dignity Or Survival.

I Can't Claim To Be Disenchanted "with The Current State Of Fiction" Because I Read So Little Of It. My Reading Is Mostly Drawn To History.

To Imagine The Unimaginable Is The Highest Use Of The Imagination