I Tend Not To Know

People Don't Write About Kids; You Have To Give Them A Lot Of Freedom, And That Causes Anarchy And That Causes Farce.

I Have To Teach Myself Not To Read Too Much Into Everything. It Comes From Too Long Having To Read Into Hardly Anything At All.

I Love The Performance Of A Craft, Whether It Is Modest Or Mean-spirited, Yet I Walk Away When Discussions Of It Begin - As If One Should Ask A Gravedigger What Brand Of Shovel He Uses Or Whether He Prefers To Work At Noon Or In Moonlight. I Am Interested Only In The Care Taken, And Those Secret Rehearsals Behind It. Even If I Do Not Understand Fully What Is Taking Place.

Every Night I Cut Out My Heart. But In The Morning It Was Full Again

For We Live With Those Retrievals From Childhood That Coalesce And Echo Throughout Our Lives, The Way Shattered Pieces Of Glass In A Kaleidoscope Reappear In New Forms And Are Songlike In Their Refrains And Rhymes, Making Up A Single Monologue. We Live Permanently In The Recurrence Of Our Own Stories, Whatever Story We Tell.