The Whole Magic Of A

Nice Criticism Is Good When It Tells You Something. A Lot Of Negative "criticism" Isn't Criticism At All: It's Just Nasty, "writerly" Cliché And Invective.

Speech, Tennis, Music, Skiing, Manners, Love- You Try Them Waking And Perhaps Balk At The Jump, And Then You're Over. You've Caught The Rhythm Of Them Once And For All, In Your Sleep At Night. The City, Of Course, Can Wreck It. So Much Insomnia. So Many Rhythms Collide. The Salesgirl, The Landlord, The Guests, The Bystanders, Sixteen Varieties Of Social Circumstance In A Day. Everyone Has The Power To Call Your Whole Life Into Question Here. Too Many People Have Access To Your State Of Mind. Some People Are Indifferent To Dislike, Even Relish It. Hardly Anyone I Know.

I Think Maybe Writers Come From Different Planets. I Mean, Not In Any Sense As Extravagant As Baryshnikov. But There Are Some Writers Who Understand Each Other This Way And Others Who Understand Each Other That Way. Then There's This Great Herd, The "herd Of Independent Minds."

Do You Realize How Angry You Sound?” Must Be One Of The Most Infuriating Questions In The Language.

I Took A Little Celebrational Nap.