And Then There Came The Pounding Of

I Had Wanted To Say That My Song Was Far Too Painful To Sing.

I'm Speaking Of The Character Of Human Beings, Not What They Believe In. I'm Speaking Of Those Who Won't Accept A Useless Life Just Because They Were Born To It. I Mean Those Who Would Be Something Better. They Work, They Sacrifice, They Do Things..." He Was Moved By This, And I Was A Little Surprised That I'd Said It. Yet I Felt I'd Had Hurt Him Somehow. "there Is Blessedness In That." I Said. "there's Sanctity. And God Or No God, There Is Goodness In It. I Know This The Way I Know The Mountains Are Out There, That The Stars Shine.

Yes. To Write A Novel Is To Risk My Sanity. The Deeper I Get Into The Suffering And Conflict Of The Characters, Into The Very Situations And Thoughts And Feelings That Make The Novel Worthwhile, The Worse I Feel, And The More Likely I Am To Be Severely Depressed When The Book Is Finished. There Is No Avoiding This: It Is The Result Of Attempting To Tell All You Know, To Reach For The Stars, To Write What Matters.

You Make Me Miserable. You Really Do, I Want You To Know That. Much As I Love You, Much As I Need You, Much As I Can't Exist Without You, You Make Me Miserable.

To Be Godless Is Probably The First Step To Innocence," He Said, "to Lose The Sense Of Sin And Subordination, The False Grief For Things Supposed To Be Lost." So By Innocence You Mean Not An Absence Of Experience, But An Absence Of Illusions." An Absence Of Need For Illusions," He Said. "a Love Of And Respect For What Is Right Before Your Eyes.