I'm A Candle Flame That Sways In

Perhaps The Best Way To Write Is To Do So As If One Were Already Dead, Afraid Of No One's Reactions, Answerable To No One's Views.

There's No Tiling Moral About Beauty.

September 2001. A Sunny Day In New York. Many Of Us Who Are Writers Were At Work On The Transformation Of Life Into A Poem, Story, A Chapter Of A Novel, When Terror Pounced From The Sky, And The World Made Witness To It.

A Desert Is A Place Without Expectation.

Well, You Know, In The Fundamentalist Milieu Of The Afrikaners, There Was A Sense That They Were A Chosen People, That They Were Bringing Civilization To The Blacks.