I Had A Definite Sense Of Somehow

The California I Knew, Old Rancho California, Is Gone. It Just Doesn't Exist, Except Maybe In Little Pockets. I Lived On The Edge Of The Mojave Desert, An Area That Used To Be Farm Country. There Were All These Fresh-produce Stands With Avocados And Date Palms. You Could Get A Dozen Artichokes For A Buck Or Something. Totally Wiped Out Now.

Democracy's A Very Fragile Thing. You Have To Take Care Of Democracy. As Soon As You Stop Being Responsible To It And Allow It To Turn Into Scare Tactics, It's No Longer Democracy, Is It? It's Something Else. It May Be An Inch Away From Totalitarianism.

The Great Thing For Me, Now, Is That Writing Has Become More And More Interesting. Not Just As A Craft But As A Way Into Things That Are Not Described. It's A Thing Of Discovering. That's When Writing Is Really Working. You're On The Trail Of Something And You Don't Quite Know What It Is.

Everyone Wants A Piece Of Land. It's The Only Sure Investment. It Can Never Depreciate Like A Car Or A Washing Machine. Land Will Double Its Value In Ten Years. In Less Than That. Land Is Going Up Every Day.

My Dad's Side Of The Family ... They're A Real Bizarre Bunch, Going Back To The Original Colonies. That Side's Got A Real Tough Strain Of Alcoholism. It Goes Back Generations And Generations, So That You Can't Remember When There Was A Sober Grandfather.