Yelling is a form of publishing.
Don’t wait until you’re ‘in the mood.’ Get into the mood by writing.
Does feminist mean large unpleasant person who’ll shout at you or someone who believes women are human beings. To me it’s the latter, so I sign up.
The act of making a photograph is less a question of what is being looked at than how.
The use of “religion” as an excuse to repress the freedom of expression and to deny human rights is not confined to any country or time.
Our problem right now is that we’re so specialized that if the lights go out, there are a huge number of people who are not going to know what to do. But within every dystopia there’s a little utopia.
I think the book you always like best is the one you’re about to write.
I have long since decided if you wait for the perfect time to write, you’ll never write. There is no time that isn’t flawed somehow.
You might ‘write from the heart,’ but you’d better polish with your brain.
Write down the thoughts and even more, write down a specific line. If you don’t, it’ll fly away forever.
My good intentions are completely lethal.
As with all knowledge, once you knew it, you couldn’t imagine how it was that you hadn’t known it before.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down. I repeat this to myself but it conveys nothing. You might as well say, Don’t let there be air; or Don’t be. I suppose you could say that.
I wait. I compose myself. My self is a thing I must now compose, as one composes a speech. What I must present is a made thing, not something born.
You can wipe your feet on me, twist my motives around all you like, you can dump millstones on my head and drown me in the river, but you can’t get me out of the story. I’m the plot, babe, and don’t ever forget it.
If one of the arguments against eating meat is to do with cruelty and animal intelligence, then lab meat avoids that. There’s also the environmental argument for it.
The reader cannot see into your heart. He will know only what you tell him. Make the blind see your words. Make the hard-hearted feel. Make the deaf hear.
I was born in the Ottawa General Hospital right after the Gray Cup Football Game in 1939. Six months later, I was backpacked into the Quebec bush. I grew up in and out of the bush, in and out of Ottawa, Sault Ste. Marie and Toronto.
Don’t be married to a line or verse if it can’t rhyme, fit the meter, or doesn’t fit the outline.
Things musicals taught me: All your problems will go away if you sing about it.