Harsh Words Live In The Dungeon Of

On A Late-winter Evening In 1983, While Driving Through Fog Along The Maine Coast, Recollections Of Old Campfires Began To Drift Into The March Mist, And I Thought Of The Abnaki Indians Of The Algonquin Tribe Who Dwelt Near Bangor A Thousand Years Ago.

The Art Of The Novel Is To Arrive At That Artless Point Where Your Characters Become More Real Than Yourself.

Everything Wrong With America Led To The Point Where The Country Built That Tower Of Babel, Which Consequently Had To Be Destroyed. And Then Came The Next Shock. We Had To Realize That The People That Did This Were Brilliant. It Showed That The Ego We Could Hold Up Until September 10 Was Inadequate.

Is One Human? Or Merely Alive? Like A Blade Of Grass Equal To All Existance In The Moment It Is Torn? Yes. If Pain Is Fundament, Then A Blade Of Grass Can Know All There Is.

There`s A Tendency For Americans, Particularly The Simpler You Are, The More You Believe In The President As The Kind Of Person To Be.