I guess I felt attached to my weakness. My pain and suffering too. Summer light, the smell of a breeze, the sound of cicadas - if I like these things, why should I apologize?

Fate seems to be taking me in some even stranger directions.

It was spring break, so the theater was always packed with high schools students. It was an animal house. I wanted to burn the place down.

No one could say how long that life would last. Whatever has form can disappear in an instant.

I was enjoying myself writing, because I don't know what's going to happen when I take a ride around that corner. You don't know at all what you're going to find there. That can be thrilling when you read a book, especially when you're a kid and you're reading stories.

If we reverse the outer shell and the essence--in other words, consider the outer shell the essence and the essence only the shell--our lives might be a whole lot easier to understand.

My priority is my books, at least at this point. What I have to do is write the narrative of this time.