Words are not necessary to one's experience of the true life.
The modern meaning of life's end-when does it end? How does it end? How should it end? What is the value of life? How do we measure it?
The term itself--my life--is a desperate overstatement.
Some people are larger than life. Hitler is larger than death.
Ecology is boring for the same reason that destruction is fun.
The shock, the power of an ordinary life. It is a thing you could not invent with banks of computers in a dust-free room.
Some people fake their death, I'm faking my life.
The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever.
The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever. The true life takes place when we're alone, thinking, feeling, lost in memory, dreamingly self-aware, the submicroscopic moments.
Years ago I used to think it was possible for a novelist to alter the inner life of the culture. Now bomb-makers and gunman have taken that territory. They make raids on human consciousness. What writers used to do before we were all incorporated.