I Don't Know About The Rest Of

Stories Are Like Assholes. Everybody's Got One And Most Of 'em Stink.

The Short Story, I Should Point Out, Is Perforce A Labor Of Love In Today's Literary World; There's Precious Little Economic Incentive To Write One.

My Mother's Father Was From Sligo, And He Used To Say It Was The Hardest Thing In The World To Find A Man Alive In Dublin Who Wasn't In The Gpo During The Easter Rising. Twenty Brave Men Marched Into That Post Office, He Said, And Thirty Thousand Marched Out.

Why On Earth Should I Care Whether People Read Me With Their Eyes Or Their Ears?

I Don't Plan An Awful Lot In Life Just As I Don't Plan An Awful Lot In My Fiction.