But those two plays left me on fresh terms with language. I didn't always have to speak in my own voice.

The day is breaking someone else's heart.

Before trying a novel I wrote a couple of plays.

Class is classlessness.

Strange about parents. We have such easy access to them and such daunting problems of communication.

Arthur Young's Reflexive Universe - fascinating but too schematic to fit into my scheme. The most I could hope for was a sense of the vocabulary and some possible images.

In life, there are no perfect affections.