Have You Noticed That Only

I Don't Like To Be Described As A Southern Writer. The Danger Is, If You're Described As A Southern Writer, You Might Be Thought Of As Someone Who Writes About A Picturesque Local Scene Like Uncle Tom's Cabin, Gone With The Wind, Something Like That.

Ooooh," Kate Groans, Kate Herself Now. "i'm So Afraid." "i Know." "what Am I Going To Do?" "you Mean Right Now?" "yes." "we'll Go To My Car. Then We'll Drive Down To The French Market And Get Some Coffee. Then We'll Go Home." "is Everything Going To Be All Right?" "yes." "tell Me. Say It." "everything Is Going To Be All Right.

[in Art] You Are Telling The Reader Or The Listener Or The Viewer Something He Already Knows But Which He Doesn't Quite Know That He Knows, So That In The Action Of Communication He Experiences A Recognition, A Feeling That He Has Been There Before, A Shock Of Recognition.

The Present Age Is Demented. It Is Possessed By A Sense Of Dislocation, A Loss Of Personal Identity, An Alternating Sentimentality And Rage Which, In An Individual Patient, Could Be Characterized As Dementia.

One Of The Peculiar Ironies Of Being A Human Self In The Cosmos: A Stranger Approaching You In The Street Will In A Second's Glance See You Whole, Size You Up, Place You In A Way In Which You Cannot And Never Will, Even Though You Have Spent A Lifetime With Yourself, Live In The Century Of The Self, And Therefore Ought To Know Yourself Best Of All.