People Are Very Afraid Of Any Controversy.

Every Artist Creates With Open Eyes What She Sees In Her Dream.

It Hurts To Love Wide Open Stretching The Muscles... It Hurts To Thwart The Reflexes Of Grab, Of Clutch; To Love And Let Go Again And Again.

The Work Of The World Is Common As Mud.

I'm Probably The Only Novelist Who Has Ever Written About Political Fugitives Who Actually Knew A Lot About Them, Had Contact With Them, And Had A Realistic Notion Of How They Survived.

I Have No Connections Here; Only Gusty Collisions, Rootless Seedlings Forced Into Bloom, That Collapse. ... I Am The Visiting Poet: A Real Unicorn, A Wind-up Plush Dodo, A Wax Museum Of The Movement. People Want To Push The Buttons And See Me Glow.