You remember some bedrooms you have slept in. There are bedrooms you like to remember and others you would like to forget.

Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.

I knew I would read all kinds of books and try to get at what it is that makes good writers good. But I made no promises that I would write books a lot of people would like to read.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.

Tell me, I forget, show me, I remember, involve me, I understand.