The mystery in how little we know of other people is no greater than the mystery of how much, Laurel thought.
We are the breakers of our own hearts
When I read, I hear what's on the page. I don't know whose voice it is, but some voice is reading to me, and when I write my own stories, I hear it, too.
I think that as you learn more about writing you learn to be direct.
The very greatest mystery is in unsheathed reality itself.
The mystery lies in the use of language to express human life.