There's something about a parenthesis in fiction that puts one off, saying, "It's me, moi, jumping in now."

Our salvation never comes in the form we would have chosen.

There's something about a parenthesis in fiction that puts one off, saying, "It's me, moi, jumping in now."

What a strange thing it is to recognize a sound like the shriek of a wounded animal, when you've never heard the shriek of a wounded animal.

Let good people sin. Give virtue to rotters.

You must get beyond divertissement, sketch, anecdote, the interesting moment. You must get to the mystery of human personality. What is the line of the story that leads us to a point where we see or intuit something we haven't before?

Plot does not simply move with time, but spreads out conceptually in metaphorical space.