The Sending Of A Letter

Starting A Novel Is Opening A Door On A Misty Landscape; You Can Still See Very Little But You Can Smell The Earth And Feel The Wind Blowing.

All Artists Dream Of A Silence Which They Must Enter, As Some Creatures Return To The Sea To Spawn.

I Am Not Famous For Anything In Particular. I Am Just Famous.

Any Writer Is Inevitably Going To Work With His Own Anxieties And Desires. If The Book Is Any Good It Has Got To Have In It The Fire Of A Personal Unconscious Mind.

Yes, Of Course, There's Something Fishy About Describing People's Feelings. You Try Hard To Be Accurate, But As Soon As You Start To Define Such And Such A Feeling, Language Lets You Down. It's Really A Machine For Making Falsehoods. When We Really Speak The Truth, Words Are Insufficient. Almost Everything Except Things Like "pass The Gravy" Is A Lie Of A Sort. And That Being The Case, I Shall Shut Up. Oh, And... Pass The Gravy.