An awareness takes shape somewhere within us, a voice forms, and it seems to speak a different language, a familiar language that we translate until––sometimes in an instant, and sometimes over days and weeks, but eventually––meaning appears.Read More
and I recall Serge, the Baker of Vanderbilt Avenue who infused Brooklyn mornings with his affection for home; and somewhere the boatsmen are already awake, always awake before the rest of us, no matter the hour of our rise, and their engines churn that low, jocular gurgle that describes readiness, always a few more chores to tend to, above deck and below;Read More
In the morning they throw men to the lions and bears; at noon they throw them to the spectators… this sort of thing goes on when the arena is empty.
You may retort: "but he was a highway robber; he killed a man!"
- Work on one thing at a time until finished.
- Start no more new books, add no more new material to ‘Black Spring.’
- Don’t be nervous. Work calmly, joyously, recklessly on whatever is in hand.