Paranoids Are The Only Ones Who Notice

We Don't Simply Read Books. We Become Them.

I Remember A Table In Barchestertowers That Had More Character Than The Combined Heroes Of Three Recent Novels I've Read.

The Epic Implications Of Being Human End In More Than This: We Start Our Lives As If They Were Momentous Stories, With A Beginning, A Middle And An Appropriate End, Only To Find That They Are Mostly Middles.

It Is One Of The Paradoxes Of American Literature That Our Writers Are Forever Looking Back With Love And Nostalgia At Lives They Couldn't Wait To Leave.

To Be Misunderstood Can Be The Writer's Punishment For Having Disturbed The Reader's Peace. The Greater The Disturbance, The Greater The Possibility Of Misunderstanding.