Different times and different structures make more sense at one point in life than at another.

The old man began to sing. His voice was very lovely and obviously a part of something that the world had disposed of in its haste, evidence of a grander, kinder past.

I am clearer in my mind and a bit less confused than I used to be.

If he acts, if he doesn't, it's meaningless. The whole thing goes forward. No one is important. No one at all.

I'm clearer now in what I want to say, and I know better how to say just that.

I don't start with an idea or concept in the sense that I flesh out an idea or concept and set it at the center of something.

The books turn out to be about things afterwards. I don't go into them with concepts, for the most part.