The Most Beautiful Fighting Machine

The Story Was Writing Itself And I Was Having A Hard Time Keeping Up With It.

A Writer's Problem Does Not Change. He Himself Changes And The World He Lives In Changes But His Problem Remains The Same. It Is Always How To Write Truly And Having Found What Is True, To Project It Is Such A Way That It Becomes A Part Of The Experience Of The Person Who Reads It.

To Me Heaven Would Be A Big Bull Ring With Me Holding Two Barrera Seats And A Trout Stream Outside That No One Else Was Allowed To Fish In And Two Lovely Houses In The Town; One Where I Would Have My Wife And Children And Be Monogamous And Love Them Truly And Well And The Other Where I Would Have My Nine Beautiful Mistresses On Nine Different Floors.

Honor To A Spaniard, No Matter How Dishonest, Is As Real A Thing As Water, Wine, Or Olive Oil. There Is Honor Among Pickpockets And Honor Among Whores. It Is Simply That The Standards Differ.

The Further You Go In Writing The More Alone You Are.