Instead of conceiving of story and conflict as another element of writing that I must learn, one which seems more out of grasp, I ought to recontextualize. Each of the elements that come easier, if framed right, can carry action-potential for story in the same way.

The art emerges when you are disciplined about what you don’t do.

There is truth to her ultimate point: don't try to say everything. But it is cloaked in much that is not necessarily true. In that sense, she herself said much more than she needed to.

I pass between life and art, suspended in that liminal space where the two collide and merge.

Training to the point of failure makes the point you fail higher and higher each time. So too with writing.

Let me write something that makes one person shiver. One person get goosebumps. One person weep. One person feel the way Sue felt when reading Emily.

I think the craft of writing hones the skill of calling up inspiration on command.

I think the unique place art occupies, and thus the primary moral obligation artists inherit, is an orientation toward beauty.

From the temporal world springs inspiration, because what is art if not showing to human beings something true they recognize inside something beautiful they do not?

Underneath the laundry and the groceries, the madman must survive.

Thumos is the soil from which moral courage grows.

My sense of humor and my love of the language come from books my father received from books his father received from monarchists and missionaries, conquering with sword and pen.

I suppose, when writing, I'm playing all roles.

Flow was about information. Each sentence ought to connect familiar information with new information. Very often, this will mean eliminating passive voice. But sometimes good flow will require passive voice.

Count me as one of them.

Self-mesmerism is the key.