There Is A No Man's

Decade After Decade, Artists Came To Paint The Light Of Provincetown, And Comparisons Were Made To The Lagoons Of Venice And The Marshes Of Holland, But Then The Summer Ended And Most Of The Painters Left, And The Long Dingy Undergarment Of The Gray New England Winter, Gray As The Spirit Of My Mood, Came Down To Visit.

Being A Real Writer Means Being Able To Do The Work On A Bad Day.

What's Not Realized About Good Novelists Is That They're As Competitive As Good Athletes. They Study Each Other - Where The Other Person Is Good And Where The Person Is Less Good. Writers Are Like That But Don't Admit It.

A Modern Democracy Is A Tyranny Whose Borders Are Undefined; One Discovers How Far One Can Go Only By Traveling In A Straight Line Until One Is Stopped.

I Guess All That's Left Is To Love The Fire.