I Closed My Eyes To Watch Tiny

And I Realized As I Walked Through The Neighborhood How Each House Could Contain A Completely Different Reality. In A Single Block, There Could Be Fifty Seperate Worlds. Nobody Ever Really Knew What Was Going On Just Next Door.

I Could Hear The Icy Winds Of Sweden, But He Didn't Seem To Feel The Chill.

I've Told You, Nobody Becomes An Artist Unless They Have To.

I Usually Start With Something That Has Some Energy, Like A Compressed Character Or A Situation That's Wound Up Like A Spring. Then All I Have To Do Is Let It Go, Let Its Energy Carry The Story. And That May Not Turn Out To Be The Beginning Of The Book.

The Word Rattled In My Head Like Rocks In An Oatmeal Box.