Those who warned that Gorbachev was being put under too much pressure were wrong.
It took me years to understand that words are often as important as experience, because words make experience last.
I came across a photograph of him not long ago. . . his black face, the long snout sniffing at something in the air, his tail straight and pointing, his eyes flashing in some momentary excitement. Looking at a faded photograph taken more than forty years before, even as a grown man, I would admit I still missed him.
The dog of your boyhood teaches you a great deal about friendship, and love, and death: Old Skip was my brother. They had buried him under our elm tree, they said-yet this wasn't totally true. For he really lay buried in my heart.
I have always had a love for American geography, and especially for the landscapes of the South. One of my pleasures has been to drive across it, with no one in the world knowing where I am, languidly absorbing the thoughts and memories of old moments, of people vanished now from my life.
My mother's people, the people who captured my imagination when I was growing up, were of the Deep South - emotional, changeable, touched with charisma and given to histrionic flourishes. They were courageous under tension and unexpectedly tough beneath their wild eccentricities, for they had and unusually close working agreement with God. They also had an unusually high quota of bullshit.
As with many Southern Writers, I believe that the special quality of the land itself indelibly shapes the people who dwell upon it.
I happen to have worked with male directors who don't understand women at all. Not at all. I'm flabbergasted by their ignorance.
My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world, and exiles me from it.
If you don't have an album or you don't have any tune, you can't start.
People will give themselves to prayer for numerous reasons, but at the core of it all is a God, raging with zealous desire.