Novels Arise Out Of The

It Is Good For A Man To Invite His Ghosts Into His Warm Interior, Out Of The Wild Night, Into The Firelight, Out Of The Howling Dark.

I'm More Interested In Books Than People, And I Always Expect Everybody Else To Be, But They're Not.

I Do Not Want To Be A Relative And Passive Being, Anywhere. I Want To Live And Love And Write.

…words Have Been All My Life, All My Life--this Need Is Like The Spider's Need Who Carries Before Her A Huge Burden Of Silk Which She Must Spin Out--the Silk Is Her Life, Her Home, Her Safety--her Food And Drink Too--and If It Is Attacked Or Pulled Down, Why, What Can She Do But Make More, Spin Afresh, Design Anew….

…my Solitude Is My Treasure, The Best Thing I Have.