When He Died He Would

[i]n The American Soul There Is A Lonely Individual Standing In A Vast Landscape. 
he Is Either On A Horse Or Driving A Car, Depending, And Either Way He’s Carrying A Gun. 
this Is One Of The Essential Images In American Mythology.

I Was Never Either Pro-culture Or Counter-culture. I Was In A Kind Of Middle State.

Rushdie Is A Hostage.

It Was The Time Of Year, The Time Of Day, For A Small Insistent Sadness To Pass Into The Texture Of Things. Dusk, Silence, Iron Chill. Something Lonely In The Bone.

When I Work, I'm Just Translating The World Around Me In What Seems To Be Straightforward Terms. For My Readers, This Is Sometimes A Vision That's Not Familiar. But I'm Not Trying To Manipulate Reality. This Is Just What I See And Hear.