The Winter Does What It

I Would Like To Please The Reader, And I Think That Surprise Has To Be An Element Of This, And That May Necessitate A Certain Amount Of Teasing. To Shock The Reader Is Something Else Again. That Has To Be Handled With Great Care If You're Not Going To Alienate And Hurt Him, And I'm Firmly Against That, Just As I Disapprove Of People Who Dress With That In Mind - Dye Their Hair Blue And Stick Safety Pins Through Their Noses And So On.

If You Need A Certain Vitality You Can Only Supply It Yourself, Or There Comes A Point, Anyway, When No One's Actions But Your Own Seem Dramatically Convincing And Justifiable In The Plot That The Number Of Your Days Concocts.

The Soul Is Not A Soul, Has No Secret, Is Small, And It Fits Its Hollow Perfectly: Its Room, Our Moment Of Attention.

In The Evening Everything Has A Schedule, If You Can Find Out What It Is.

Reading Is A Pleasure, But To Finish Reading, To Come To The Blank Space At The End, Is Also A Pleasure.