I Could Bear The Memory, But I

My Mother, Southern To The Bone, Once Told Me, “all Southern Literature Can Be Summed Up In These Words: ‘on The Night The Hogs Ate Willie, Mama Died When She Heard What Daddy Did To Sister.’” She Raised Me Up To Be A Southern Writer, But It Wasn’t Easy.

One Can Learn Anything, Anything At All, I Thought, If Provided By A Gifted And Passionate Teacher.

I Would Always Be A Better Hater Of Things And Institutions Than A Lover Of Them.

Cameras Are A Lifesaver For Very Shy People Who Have Nowhere Else To Hide. Behind A Lens They Can Disguise The Fact That They Have Nothing To Say To Strangers.

I Can't Pass A Bookstore Without Slipping Inside, Looking For The Next Book That Will Burn My Hand When I Touch Its Jacket, Or Hand Me Over A Promissory Note Of Such Immense Power That It Contains The Formula That Will Change Everything About Me.