I'm Not Very Good At Being Alive.

I'm Not Very Good At Being Alive. Sometimes I Despair Of Ever Mastering It, Getting It Right. When I'm Old, Perhaps.

Your Dreams Will Betray You. Go Nowhere On A Horse That Fades.

The Bitterness Of Joy Lies In The Knowledge That Is Cannot Last. Nor Should Joy Last Beyond A Certain Season, For, After That Season, Even Joy Would Become Merely Habit.

I Like Writing About Women, Weak And Strong, Pathetic And Heroic. I Like Writing About Men, Ditto. And All The Variants Of Men And Women, Beasts And Demons.

In The Greater Part Of Humankind There Resides An Instinct For Survival. It Is This Which Can Clutch At Straws And Effect A Rescue From Them. It Is This Which Can, Now And Then, Outwit Fate.