It Seems To Me Some People Just

That's One Good Thing About The Way Life Is, That No One Can Know You If You Don't Let Them.

That Is How Life Goes--we Send Our Children Into The Wilderness. Some Of Them On The Day They Are Born, It Seems, For All The Help We Can Give Them. Some Of Them Seem To Be A Kind Of Wilderness Unto Themselves. But There Must Be Angels There, Too, And Springs Of Water. Even That Wilderness, The Very Habitation Of Jackals, Is The Lord's.

Characters More Or Less Present Themselves To Me. I Don't Know Their Origins. I Think If I Did, If I Seemed To Myself To Fabricate Them, I Could Not Induce Suspension Of Disbelief In Myself In The Way Writing Fiction Requires.

I Listen To Bach A Great Deal. In General I Like To Listen To Hymns And Liturgical Music.

The Force Behind The Movement Of Time Is A Mourning That Will Not Be Comforted. That Is Why The First Event Is Known To Have Been An Expulsion, And The Last Is Hoped To Be A Reconciliation And Return. So Memory Pulls Us Forward, So Prophecy Is Only Brilliant Memory - There Will Be A Garden Where All Of Us As One Child Will Sleep In Our Mother Eve, Hooped In Her Ribs And Staved By Her Spine.