We Write To Know We

All The Fear In The World, And The Violence That Comes From The Fear, And The Hatred That Comes From The Violence, And The Lonliness That Comes From The Hatred. All The Unhappiness, All The Cruelty, It Gathers Like Clouds In The Air, And Grows Dark And Cold And Heavy, And Falls Like Grey Snow In Thick Layers Over The Land. Then The World Is Muffled And Numb, And No One Can Hear Each Other Or Feel Each Other. Think How Sad And Lonely That Must Be.

Why Should I Be Honored? Don't I Have Enough Attention, Comfort And Power Already?

We Are The Slaves Of Slaves

When I Began To Write Seriously, 40 Years Ago Now, My Chosen Form Was The Novel.

I Pray Because I Can't Help Myself. I Pray Because I'm Helpless. I Pray Because The Need Flows Out Of Me All The Time- Waking And Sleeping. It Doesn't Change God- It Changes Me.