I Cannot Live Without Reading.

The Books, The Authors Who Matter The Most Are Those Who Speak To Me And Speak For Me All Those Things About Life I Most Need To Hear As The Confession Of Myself

The Plain Unwelcome Fact Is That Sometimes Life Stymies You.

Fame, Money And The Size Of The Market Are Not Very Important To Me. What Is, Is Writing A Book That Is Worth Doing And Then Publishing It. I Don't Write Books For Entertainment, For People To Pass The Time Then Throw Away.

Yet, Isn't It Strange, Isn't It Weird, How We Can Know That Someone Is Not Behaving In The Way We Imagine, And At The Same Time We Can Be Totally Convinced That He Is! How Clever The Human Mind Is, That It Can Accept Two Contradictory Things As 'facts.' Yes, I Know That In This Case One 'fact' Was Untrue. But The Human Mind Can Know Something Is Untrue And Still Accept It As A 'fact,' And Act On It As If It Were True.

How Do I Think Of You? As Someone I Want To Be With. As Someone As Young As Me, But "older," If That Makes Sense. As Someone I Like To Look At, Not Just Because You're Good To Look At, But Because Just Looking At You Makes Me Smile And Feel Happier. As Someone Who Knows Her Mind And Who I Envy For That. As Someone Who Is Strong In Herself Without Seeming To Need Anyone Else To Help Her. As Someone Who Makes Me Thinks And Unsettles Me In A Way That Makes Me Feel More Alive.