“If someone asks me, ‘Why do you write?’ I can reply by pointing out that it is a very dumb question. Nevertheless, there is an answer. I write because I hate. A lot. Hard.” — William Gass, The Paris Review
I just blew everything by telling you how i feel, wish i never said a fucking word
Henney and Audrey Ballin met when they were in their late teens. She worked in the rural telephone exchange and he was a farmer’s son destined for great things. On the farm of course. That was good enough for her, and it was good enough for him.