You can tell a more over-the-top incredible story if you use a nonfiction form.
There’s an old saying: ‘No piece of writing is ever finished, it’s just abandoned.’ But my own rule is: No piece of work is done until you want to kill everyone involved in the publishing process, especially yourself.
Where would Jesus be if no one had written the gospels?
The world of American politics is more contentious than it has ever been in my lifetime.
Maybe it’s our sins that give God consolation when he finally has to give us cancer.
I don’t do much more than organise other people’s ideas and insights and thoughts, and sort of harvest them, and inventory them and present them.
Your folks are god, you love them and you want to make them happy but you still want to make up your own rules.
Writing is like sex, if it’s difficult you’re not doing it right.
I’m only confrontational with my friends.
Torture is torture and humiliation is humiliation only when you choose to suffer.
Some people are just born human, the rest of us, we take a lifetime to get there.
Those who can forget the past are way ahead of the rest of us.
More and more, the hardest part of crying is when I can’t stop.
New carpet will exude poisonous formaldehyde for up to two years after it’d been laid. I know the feeling.
The police are asking through the bedroom door, why did I make a batch of strawberry daiquiris before I called them? Because we were out of raspberries. Because, can’t they see, it just does not matter. Time was not of the essence.
I spent my life attacking everything because I was too afraid to risk creating anything.
There was no real sense of life because she had nothing to contrast it with.
My whole life is about forgetting. It’s my most valuable job skill.
A male chauvinist pig isn’t born, he’s made, and more and more of them are being made by women.
Could you hold the chainsaw a bit closer to your mouth, please?