It Was All Those Biographies

When I Don't Feel Hurt, I Hope They Bury Me.

The Short Story Packs A Self In A Few Pages Predicating A Lifetime

A Man Had To Learn, It Was His Nature.

Completed, Most Lives Were Alike In Stages Of Living-joys, Celebrations, Crises, Illusions, Losses, Sorrows.

You Write By Sitting Down And Writing. There's No Particular Time Or Place—you Suit Yourself, Your Nature. How One Works, Assuming He's Disciplined, Doesn't Matter.