You have to be lonely to be a writer
In a way Winter is the real Spring - the time when the inner things happen, the resurgence of nature.
Ideally I'd like to spend two evenings a week talking to Proust and another conversing with the Holy Ghost.
literature is the last banquet between minds.
Kindness. The most unkind thing of all.
I am obsessive, also I am industrious. Besides, the time when you are most alive and most aware is in childhood and one is trying to recapture that heightened awareness.