Self-criticism Is An Art Not Many Are

For The Writer, The Serial Killer Is, Abstractly, An Analogue Of The Imagination's Caprices And Amorality; The Sense That, No Matter The Dictates And Even The Wishes Of The Conscious Social Self, The Life Or Will Or Purpose Of The Imagination Is Incomprehensible, Unpredictable.

A Lot Of Widows Feel That They Have Betrayed Their Spouse By Continuing To Live. It's Deranged Thinking. I Know That, But That Doesn't Stop You Feeling It.

A Man Will Reveal His True Self, Or So It Seems, On The Tennis Court.

It's One Of Those Secrets That's Embarrassing To Acknowledge, But We Do Love Our Students.

My Writing Is Full Of Lives I Might Have Led.