Words Are The Raw Material

Fact-checking Is So Boring Compared To Writing Fiction.

We Never Believe We're Beautiful, No Matter How Many Times We Hear It. We Never Believe It Until Someone Says It In The Right Way.

Traditionally, The Love Of Reading Has Been Born And Nurtured In High School English Class

But If I Were Asked To Pick One Constant, One Quality That Seems Dependable, Immutable, Endlessly Available, I'd Say That It Was Intensity. For Nothing In Sicily Seems Withheld, Done Half Way, Restrained Or Suppressed. There's Nothing To Correspond To Say, The Ironic, The Cerebral Remove At Which A Frenchman Might Consider An Idea Or A Question, Or The Scandinavian Distrust Of The Sloppy, Emotive Response.

Too Often Students Are Being Taught To Read As If Literature Were Some Kind Of Ethics Class Or Civics Class—or Worse, Some Kind Of Self-help Manual. In Fact, The Important Thing Is The Way The Writer Uses The Language.