I have a strange love affair with words—the ones well placed, anyway. There’s a musical quality to something well written. I’d quote him if I weren’t in the dark on my phone with a cat on my arm. I mean I’d find the quote. He’s in a book, his words are, he is, same difference. He writes about how real writing has rhythm. The good stuff is three-dimensional, it billows and twirls through space. The rest is stuck to a page, listless or apathetic or too eager to please. He didn’t say that part, but I think he’d agree.