All good things come by grace, and grace comes by art, and art does not come easy.

...life every now and then becomes literature...as if life had been made and not happened.

How can a question be answered that asks a lifetime of questions.

The world is full of bastards, the number increasing rapidly the further one gets from Missoula, Montana.

At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear.

I sat there and forgot and forgot, until what remained was the river that went by and I who watched. On the river the heat mirages danced with each other and then they danced through each other and then they joined hands and danced around each other. Eventually the water joined the river, and there was only one of us. I believe it was the river.

Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.