Browse Topics
Death
Sunbeams
March 1979A man’s suffering is similar to the behavior of gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the “size” of human suffering is absolutely relative.
Small Press Review
Sweet Gogarty And Anaconda
How many novels have you read lately that challenge stereotypes, while giving you characters you can love and hate, with a plot and an ending that satisfy both your sense of what must happen and what you wish would happen?
March 1979Getting Unstressed
An Interview With Ken Pelletier
You can think of our bodies as being naive. They can’t tell if your life is really in danger or if you’re just thinking as if your life were in danger. The fear of losing your job might feel just as threatening as if a speeding truck were coming at you.
March 1979January 1979
Fathers
To let our parents be, to accept them as people, human and therefore imperfect, rather than as gods — that is the challenge.
January 1979An Interview With Warren Barrett
The name “Storybook Farm” came when I was reading to my kids one night, and in the middle of this book, there was a picture of this farm. When I saw the picture I said, “Oh wow, how beautiful! One of these days, we’re going to have a place just like that. A storybook farm.”
January 1979December 1978
Thanksgiving
Anchors raised, we were a free people journeying into our own living flesh, and consciousness striving to know itself: political freedom; economic freedom; sexual freedom; artistic freedom. The freedom to abuse freedom. To enslave, and to set free. To become President, and to bear arms: to lean a rifle on a window sill, take aim, squeeze the trigger, and hurl a tiny speck of our own dark heart into the tissue of another. All for the sake of freedom — the greatest burden, the greatest joy.
December 1978Angel At The Gate
In the year I was sixteen, on the first day of that new year, my father died, and since that time I have longed hopelessly for a paradise that will never return.
December 1978The Horseman Of Marrakech
I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision. I looked closely once again to make sure. I could barely see the tall shape prancing in and out of the traffic. I squinted through the haze and then knew I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. “Yes,” I said to myself, “he thinks he’s a horse.”
December 1978
