I had to go to Sunday school once or twice in my life, and that's where I commented someplace on hearing.
Really, I didn't like Alaska. It rained, almost every day, at least 300 days out of the year.
The only thing that exists is torment, lyricism, and the magnificence of language.
My father's parents were Irish. Only a year before my father died, he and I went back to Ireland for a week to look at the old homestead.
I didn't for a moment doubt the choice, but if life is ever fearsome, it is truly fearsome then.
I'm only interested in fiction that in some way or other voices the very imagination which is conceiving it.
