I Honor English Majors. It's A Dumb

I Think Book Publishing Is Fun, But I Also Know I've Been Very Lucky.

The Deepest Secret In Our Heart Of Hearts Is That We Are Writing Because We Love The World.

Take Out Another Notebook, Pick Up Another Pen, And Just Write, Just Write, Just Write. In The Middle Of The World, Make One Positive Step. In The Center Of Chaos, Make One Definitive Act. Just Write. Say Yes, Stay Alive, Be Awake. Just Write. Just Write. Just Write.

Indefinite Plans Get Dubious Results.

Our Bodies Are Garbage Heaps: We Collect Experience, And From The Decomposition Of The Thrown-out Eggshells, Spinach Leaves, Coffee Grinds, And Old Steak Bones Out Of Our Minds Come Nitrogen, Heat, And Very Fertile Soil. Out Of This Fertile Soil Bloom Our Poems And Stories. But This Does Not Come All At Once. It Takes Time. Continue To Turn Over And Over The Organic Details Of Your Life Until Some Of Them Fall Through The Garbage Of Discursive Thoughts To The Solid Ground Of Black Soil.