My Sentences Tend To Be Very Short

You Go On. You Set One Foot In Front Of The Other, And If A Thin Voice Cries Out, Somewhere Behind You, You Pretend Not To Hear, And Keep Going.

Men Can Absent Themselves From Real Life For Their Art More Easily. Women Are Anchored Into The Quotidian Business Of Getting Food On The Table, Making Sure Everybody's Socks Match, The Soccer Gear Is Ready. I Admire Idealists, But They're Usually Enabled By Someone Who Holds The Tether On Their Balloon, Who Pays The Bills And Sweeps Up After Them.

Book Burnings. Always The Forerunners. Heralds Of The Stake, The Ovens, The Mass Graves.

Despair Is A Cavern Beneath Our Feet And We Teeter On Its Very Brink.

I Am Not Part Of That Earlier Australian Generation Who Set Off On A Deliberate Search For Fame And Fortune In Distant Lands. My Generation Was The First That Didn't Need To. By The 1980's When I Left Home, Our Culture Had Grown Deep Enough And Wide Enough To Encompass All But The Most Rarefied Of Ambitions.