If A Man Cannot Tell

One Of The Troubles Is This: The Heart Isn't Heart-shaped.

Nature Is So Exact, It Hurts Exactly As Much As It Is Worth, So In A Way One Relishes The Pain. If It Didn't Matter, It Wouldn't Matter.

Perhaps Love Is Essential Because It's Unnecessary.

Is Any Novelist Going To Recognize The Moment When He Or She Has Nothing More To Say? It Is A Brave Thing To Admit. And Since As A Professional Writer You Are Full Of Anxiety Anyway, You Could Easily Misread The Signs.

Discovering, For Example, That As Witnesses To Your Life Diminish, There Is Less Corroboration, And Therefore Less Certainty, As To What You Are Or Have Been. [p. 65]