Families Will Not Be Broken. Curse And

I Have Found That The Characters In My Novels Stay With Me After A Book Has Ended. I Know Them In Some Sense. I Never Map Anything Out. I Just Think Until I Am Secure In The Voice Of One Of Them, And Then Let The Character Unfold.

And There Is No Living Creature, Though The Whims Of Eons Had Put Its Eyes On Boggling Stalks And Clamped It In A Carapace, Diminished It To A Pinpoint And Given It A Taste For Mud And Stuck It Down A Well Or Hid It Under A Stone, But That Creature Will Live On If It Can.

I’m Writing This In Part To Tell You That If You Ever Wonder What You’ve Done In Your Life, And Everyone Does Wonder Sooner Or Later, You Have Been God’s Grace To Me, A Miracle, Something More Than A Miracle. You May Not Remember Me Very Well At All, And It May Seem To You To Be No Great Thing To Have Been The Good Child Of An Old Man In A Shabby Little Town You Will No Doubt Leave Behind. If Only I Had The Words To Tell You.

I Wish I Could Leave You Certain Of The Images In My Mind, Because They Are So Beautiful That I Hate To Think They Will Be Extinguished When I Am. Well, But Again, This Life Has Its Own Mortal Loveliness. And Memory Is Not Strictly Mortal In Its Nature, Either. It Is A Strange Thing, After All, To Be Able To Return To A Moment, When It Can Hardly Be Said To Have Any Reality At All, Even In Its Passing. A Moment Is Such A Slight Thing. I Mean, That Its Abiding Is A Most Gracious Reprieve.

The Twinkling Of An Eye. That Is The Most Wonderful Expression. I've Thought From Time To Time It Was The Best Thing In Life, That Little Incandescence You See In People When The Charm Of A Thing Strikes Them, Or The Humor Of It. 'the Light Of The Eyes Rejoiceth The Heart.' That's A Fact.