I Always Knew Writing A

Solitude. One Knows Instinctively It Has Benefits That Must Be More Deeply Satisfying Than Those Of Other Conditions, But Still It Is Difficult.

There Comes A Time When You Realize That Everything Is A Dream, And Only Those Things Preserved In Writing Have Any Possibility Of Being Real.

But That Isn't My Life. I Have Said Many Times I Don't Want To Be Considered One Who Once Flew Fighters. That's Not Who I Am. I Devoted The Subsequent 50 Years - More - To Writing.

You Are Perfectly Entitled To Invent Your Life And To Claim That It's True.

As I Look Back, I See That Life Is Like A Game Of Solitaire And Every Once In A While There Is A Move.