I've been in New York only a few days and I have learned only two words of your language: one is Swell, and the other is Lousy. . . . 'It's swell to be with you and excuse, please, my lousy English!
If there's any mystery to me at all, it's probably due to the fact that I'm not online and don't go to conventions--which means that I'm probably not as accessible to fans as most writers are these days. If that makes me seem like a weird recluse, so be it.
There are some days where, at the end of the day, you've done OK. It's the most out-of-control feeling you possibly can have.
Oddly enough I never used to suffer from depression on cold, gray, cloudy days like this. I feel as if nature is in harmony with me, that it reflected my soul.
. . . Each secret you carry has a weight all its own. They add up, secrets, to a burden you must carry all your days.