There Is A Kind Of Perverse Unity

A Lot Of My Work Goes To The Center Of Where We Belong--if There Is Any Root To Life -because Nowadays The Family Is Broken Up, And People Don't Live In The Same Place For Very Long.

The World Is An Oyster But You Don't Crack It Open On A Mattress

Until An Hour Before The Devil Fell, God Thought Him Beautiful In Heaven.

When Any Creativity Becomes Useful, It Is Sucked Into The Vortex Of Commercialism, And When A Thing Becomes Commercial, It Becomes The Enemy Of Man.

Whoever Is Writing In The United States Is Using The American Dream As An Ironical Pole Of His Story. People Elsewhere Tend To Accept, To A Far Greater Degree Anyway, That The Conditions Of Life Are Hostile To Mans Pretensions.