How Can A Novelist Achieve Atonement When,

He Had Never Before Felt So Self-consciously Young, Nor Experienced Such Appetite, Such Impatience For The Story To Begin.

Something Has Happened, Hasn't It? ... It's Like Being Up Close To Something So Large You Don't Even See It. Even Now, I'm Not Sure I Can. But I Know It's There.

If Life Was A Dream, Then Dying Must Be The Moment When You Woke Up. It Was So Simple It Must Be True. You Died, The Dream Was Over, You Woke Up. That's What People Meant When They Talked About Going To Heaven. It Was Like Waking Up.

Shall There Be Womanly Times? Or Shall We Die?

We Know So Little About Each Other. We Lie Mostly Submerged, Like Ice Floes, With Our Visible Social Selves Projecting Only Cool And White.