In The End, The Only

There Is Something Elegantly Sinister About The Rolling Stones. They Sit Before You At A Press Conference Like Five Unfolding Switchblades; Their Faces Set In Rehearsed Snarls; Their Hair Studiously Unkempt And Matted; Their Clothes Part Of Some Private Conceit; And The Way They Walk And Talk And The Songs They Sing All Become Part Of Some Long Mean Reach For The Jugular.

Writing Is The Hardest Work In The World Not Involving Heavy Lifting.

Human Beings Want To Know Too Much Abut Each Other, And That's Why There Are So Many Lies.

It's Odd Being An American Now. Most Of Us Are Peaceful, But Here We Are Again, In Our Fifth Major War Of This Century.

The Goal Is To Be Both Disciplined And Loose, So That The Writing Does Not Turn Into A Task Or A Chore. To Leave Myself Behind, Along With The Mechanics, And Disappear Into The Lives Of My Characters.