I'm A Bit Like A

We Live In A Time When Writers Do Not Always Have Barriers Around Them

And Boucard Desisted, Probably Because Like Everyone Else He Was Deeply Impressed By This Man Who Had Laid All Ghosts, Who Had Lost All Shadows, And Who Stared You In The Eyes With Cold Serenity.

I Would Like To Carve My Novel In A Piece Of Wood.

It Was Night And I Could See A Large And Calm Lake, Reflecting The Moon. Black Mountains Rose Around It. I Arrived From Between Two Of These Mountains, I Looked At The Lake And The Moon, And That Was It, Nothing Else Happened.

If Your Vision Of The World Is Of A Certain Kind You Will Put Poetry In Everything, Necessarily.