I Do Not Like Strangers

Every Life Is Narrow. Our Only Escape Is Not To Run Away, But To Learn To Love The People We Are And The World In Which We Find Ourselves.

If One Book's Done This Well, You Want To Write Another One That Does Just As Well. There's That Horror Of The Second Novel That Doesn't Match Up.

My Book Has A Very Simple Surface, But There Are Layers Of Irony And Paradox All The Way Through It.

One Person Looks Around And Sees A Universe Created By A God Who Watches Over Its Long Unfurling, Marking The Fall Of Sparrows And Listening To The Prayers Of His Finest Creation. Another Person Believes That Life, In All Its Baroque Complexity, Is A Chemical Aberration That Will Briefly Decorate The Surface Of A Ball Of Rock Spinning Somewhere Among A Billion Galaxies. And The Two Of Them Could Talk For Hours And Find No Great Difference Between One Another, For Neither Set Of Beliefs Make Us Kinder Or Wiser.

I Knew There Was A Story; Once You Find A Dog With A Fork Through It, You Know There's A Story There.