Never think you've seen the last of anything.

Location pertains to feelings - feelings are bound up in place.

The mystery lies in the use of language to express human life.

I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them--with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself.

People are mostly layers of violence and tenderness wrapped like bulbs, and it is difficult to say what makes them onions or hyacinths.

My own words, when I am at work on a story, I hear too as they go, in the same voice that I hear when I read in books. When I write and the sound of it comes back to my ears, then I act to make changes. I have always trusted this voice.

Look for where the sky is brightest along the horizon. That reflects the nearest river. Strike out for a river and you will find habitation.