I don’t tell anyone how to write and no one tells me.
Journalism keeps you planted in the earth.
I don’t write things to benefit the world. If it happens that they do, swell. I didn’t set out to do that. I set out to have a hell of a lot of fun.
I like to smell things and look at things, and sometimes stay up all night, walking, and watch the sun rise.
There is only one type of story in the world-your story.
In order for a thing to be horrible it has to suffer a change you can recognize.
Putting out the stars and extinguishing the sun.
And the odd think in Dad’s voice was the sound truth makes being said.
Kill two birds with one stone, feed the homeless to the hungry.
That’s the wonderful thing about man; he never gets so discouraged or disgusted that he gives up doing it all over again, because he knows very well it is important and WORTH the doing.
The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school.
Books are flesh-and-blood ideas and cry out, silently, when put to the torch.
I shall remain on Mars and read a book.
Everything is generated through your own will power.
All of us, no matter how we look born into this world, feel something like the Hunchback. It doesn’t matter if you have a beautiful face or not.
The Internet is a big distraction. It’s distracting, it’s meaningless; it’s not real. It’s in the air somewhere.
Ah, art! Ah, life! The pendulum swinging back and forth, from complex to simple, again to complex. From romantic to realistic, back to romantic.
I feel I’m doing what I should’ve done a lifetime ago. For a little while I’m not afraid. Maybe it’s because I’m doing the right thing at last. Maybe it’s because I’ve done a rash thing and don’t want to look the coward to you.
Thinking little at all about nothing in particular.
Everything that happens before Death is what counts.