Even The Company Of The

If You Say, Well, Ok, I Don't Believe In God. There's No Evidence Of God, Then You're Missing The Stars In The Sky And You're Missing The Sunrises And Sunsets And You're Missing The Fact That Bees Pollinate All These Crops And Keep Us Alive And The Way That Everything Seems To Work Together. Everything Is Sort Of Built In A Way That To Me Suggests Intelligent Design.

Reading Is The Creative Center Of A Writer’s Life. I Take A Book With Me Everywhere I Go, And Find There Are All Sorts Of Opportunities To Dip In. The Trick Is To Teach Yourself To Read In Small Sips As Well As In Long Swallows. Waiting Rooms Were Made For Books— Of Course! But So Are Theater Lobbies Before The Show, Long And Boring Checkout Lines, And Everyone’s Favorite, The John. You Can Even Read While You’re Driving, Thanks To The Audiobook Revolution. Of The Books I Read Each Year, Anywhere From Six To A Dozen Are On Tape.

Dead Fields Under A November Sky, Scattered Rose Petals Brown And Turning Up At The Edges, Empty Pools Scummed With Algae, Rot, Decomposition, Dust.

That Was What I Wanted, But I Don't Need It To Be Gone. I Can Love You And I Can Love Life And Bear The Pain All At The Same Time. I Think The Pain Might Even Make The Rest Better, The Way A Good Setting Can Make A Diamond Look Better.

Whatever Came To Mind, Whatever Came To Hand, I Would Read.