Life Passes Into Pages If

Sometimes I Write With A Particular Person In Mind. I Think It's Fair To Say That I Write For A Perceptive Reader. You Have To Get It. If You Don't Get It The First Time You May Not Understand. If You Like Repetition, Analysis, Explanation, You Probably Won't Like My Books.

Dresscodes Are For Styleless People.

I Don't Fear Death. I'm Not Obsessed With It The Way Everybody Else Seems To Be. It's Wrong To Say "everybody," But In Literature I See It All The Time - Preoccupation With It, Philosophical Preoccupation, In Fact. That's A Principle Element Of Literature And Philosophy, Often Cited As The Main Element, The Only Real Element. I Say Give It Up.

Certain Things I Remember Exactly As They Were. They Are Merely Discolored A Bit By Time, Like Coins In The Pocket Of A Forgotten Suit. Most Of The Details, Though, Have Long Since Been Transformed Or Rearranged To Bring Others Of Them Forward. Some, In Fact, Are Obviously Counterfeit; They Are No Less Important. One Alters The Past To Form The Future.

I'm A Frotteur, Someone Who Likes To Rub Words In His Hand, To Turn Them Around And Feel Them, To Wonder If That Really Is The Best Word Possible.