I Work Mornings Only. I Go Out

The Secret Is Not To Write About What You Love Best, But About What You, Alone, Love At All.

I Write In My Own Journal When Something Extraordinary Or Funny Happens. And There's Some Nice Imagery In There. I Don't Think Of What To Do With It.

I Wake Up Thinking: What Am I Reading? What Will I Read Next? I'm Terrified That I'll Run Out, That I Will Read Through All I Want To, And Be Forced To Learn Wildflowers At Last, To Keep Awake.

You Can't Test Courage Cautiously, So I Ran Hard And Waved My Arms Hard, Happy.

Many Writers Do Little Else But Sit In Small Rooms Recalling The Real World.