When I was 12 years old someone took me to see Martha Graham. It was nothing like what I thought of as serious dancing and even then I knew I was having a great experience. It was as if somebody was moving through space like no one ever did before.
My assignment is what every writer’s assignment is: tell the truth of his own time.
I long for the raised voice the howl of rage or love.
I have I admit a low tolerance for detached chronicling and cool analysis.
Faulkner turned out to be a great teacher. When a student asked a question ineptly he answered the question with what the student had really wanted to know.
All good criticism should be judged the way art is. You shouldn’t read it the way you read history or science.
Hemingway seems to be in a funny position. People nowadays can’t identify with him closely as a member of their own generation and he isn’t yet historical.
I think the pattern of my essays is A funny thing happened to me on my way through Finnegans Wake.
It’s funny to be a critic.