I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. I repeat my former name; remind myself of what I once could do, how others saw me. I want to steal something.
Our generation in the west was lucky: we had readymade gateways. We had books, paper, teachers, schools and libraries. But many in the world lack these luxuries. How do you practice without such tryout venues?
I write as if I’ve lived a lot of things I haven’t lived.
Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants.
Nobody dies from lack of sex. It’s lack of love we die from.
Time rises and rises, and when it reaches the level of your eyes you drown.
Nothing is more difficult than to understand the dead, I’ve found; but nothing is more dangerous than to ignore them.
The darkness is really out there. It’s not something that’s in my head, just. It’s in my work because it’s in the world.
If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart.
Never pray for justice, because you might get some.
I see that there will be no end to imperfection, or to doing things the wrong way. Even if you grow up, no matter how hard you scrub, whatever you do, there will always be some other stain or spot on your face or stupid act, somebody frowning.
If we were all on trial for our thoughts, we would all be hanged.
Our heaven is their hell, said God. I like a balanced universe.
The truly fearless think of themselves as normal.
Good writing takes place at intersections, at what you might call knots, at places where the society is snarled or knotted up.
Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow.
Tell what is yours to tell. Let others tell what is theirs.
Potential has a shelf life.
If your not annoying somebody, you’re not alive.
Forgiving men is so much easier than forgiving women.