The writer's first affinity is not to a loyalty, a tradition, a morality, a religion, but to life itself, and to its representation in language.
Towns change; they grow or diminish, but hometowns remain as we left them.
As before, there is a great silence, with no end in sight. The writer surrenders, listening.
The writing life is a secret life, wither we admit it or not.
I wish I had more time to write.
Literature can teach us how to live before we live, and how to die before we die. I believe that writing is practice for death, and for every (other) transformation human beings encounter.