Love is an indescribable sensation – perhaps a conviction, a sense of certitude.
Love commingled with hate is more powerful than love. Or hate.
It’s not hard to write poorly. But to write something good, it has to be revised.
If I’m writing, I’ll say something metaphorical or approximate, whereas scientists are very precise.
I was writing novels in high school and apprenticed myself in a way both to Faulkner and to Hemingway.
I was brought up to be sympathetic toward others.
I have read on a Kindle. But the Kindle we had only worked for about eight months then it stopped working. You don’t have to get books repaired.
My self is all to me. I don’t have any need of you.
These are the moments for which we live.
Like a flame is real enough, isn’t it, while it’s burning?-even if there’s a time it goes out?
That’s how a thing starts out real then ends up just an idea.
Where there must be a choice, a girl will choose Daddy. Even if you are Mommy, you concede that this must be so: you remember when you were a girl, too.
How mysterious it is, to be in love. For you can be in love with one who knows nothing of you. Perhpas our greatest happinesses spring from such longings-being in love with one who is oblivious of you.
I suggest to my students that they write under a pseudonym for a week. That allows young men to write as women, and women as men. It allows them a lot of freedom they don’t have ordinarily.
Was it confusing because it was artistic, or artistic because it was confusing?
For what is delusion but the prelude to hurt. And what is hurt but the prelude to rage.
Dear girl! Life is addictive. Yet we must live.
There was a Greek philosopher who taught that, of all things, not to have been born is the sweetest state. But I believe sleep is the sweetest state. You’re dead, yet alive. There’s no sensation so exquisite.
Her problem wasn’t she was a dumb blonde, it was she wasn’t a blonde and she wasn’t dumb.
I’m nobody’s daughter now. I’m through with that.