I Am Less Interested In

But There Are Times In Life When A Door Opens And You Are Offered A Glimpse Of The Light On The Water, And You Know That If You Don't Take It, That Door Slams Shut, And Maybe Forever. Maybe You Fool Yourself Into Thinking That You Had A Choice At All; Maybe You Were Always Going To Say Yes. Maybe Refusing Was No More A Choice Than Is Holding Your Breath. You Were Always Going To Breathe. You Were Always Going To Say Yes.

Every Day The Eye Is Subject To A Thousand Tiny Shocks As A Thousand Industries Compete For The Eye-kick, The Visual Hook That Will Lock The Consumer Into Product For That Crucial Second Where The Tiny - Or Not So Tiny - Leap Of The Imagination Is Made.

Because Two People In Love Don't Make A Hive Mind. Neither Should They Want To Be A Hive Mind, To Think The Same, To Know The Same. It's About Being Separate And Still Loving Each Other, Being Distinct From Each Other. One Is The Violin String One Is The Bow.

I'd Defend The Right For Any Novelist To Experiment With Form Or Language, But If People Don't Take To It, Don't React By Making Out That They Are Thick.

The Overintellectualization Of Surrealism Can Be A Bromide. A Dream Interpreted Is A Deflated Dream.