Talent Is A Valued Tormentor.

I Loved Her Enough To Forget Myself, My Self Pitying Despairs, And Be Content That Something She Thought Happy Was Going To Happen.

She Sounds The Way Bananas Taste.

I'll Wager At The End A Body Realizes The Lord Has Already Shown Himself. That Things As They Are -- Her Hand Circles In A Gesture That Gathers Clouds And Kites And Grass And Queenie Pawing Earth Over Her Bone - Just What They've Always Seen, Was Seeing Him. As For Me, I Could Leave The World With Today In My Eyes.

I Think I Would Have Written Five Times As Much As I've Written If I Didn't Have This Terrible Sense Of Perfection.

Life Is A Moderately Good Play With A Badly Written Third Act.