I Just Thought You'd Like To Know

Prejudice, A Dirty Word, And Faith, A Clean One, Have Something In Common: They Both Begin Where Reason Ends.

Weeping For Anna Karenina And Being Terrified By Hannibal Lecter, Entering The Heart Of Darkness With Mistah Kurtz, Having Holden Caulfield Ring You Up - Some Things Should Happen On Soft Pages, Not Cold Metal.

Things Are Never As Bad As They Seem.

Any Writer Worth His Salt Writes To Please Himself...it's A Self-exploratory Operation That Is Endless. An Exorcism Of Not Necessarily His Demon, But Of His Divine Discontent.

Calpurnia Evidently Remembered A Rainy Sunday When We Were Both Fatherless And Teacherless. Let To Its Own Devices, The Class Tied Eunice Ann Simpson To A Chair And Placed Her In The Furnace Room. We Forgot Her, Trooped Upstairs To Church, And Were Listening Quietly To The Sermon When A Dreadful Banging Issued From The Radiator Pipes, Persisting Until Someone Investigated And Brought Forth Eunice Ann Saying She Didn't Want To Play Shadrach Any More - Jem Finch Said She Wouldn't Get Burnt If She Had Enough Faith, But It Was Hot Down There.