• The writer doesn’t write for the reader. He doesn’t write for himself, either. He writes to serve…something. Somethingness. The somethingness that is sheltered by the wings of nothingness — those exquisite, enveloping, protecting wings.

    Joy Williams (2015). “Ill Nature: Rants and Reflections on Humanity and Other Animals”, p.181, Rowman & Littlefield
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