Now that I have you thoroughly confused, let me pause to hear your own dismayed cry.
It is a lie to write in such way as to be rewarded by fame offered you by some snobbish quasi-literary groups in the intellectual gazettes.
Writing is supposed to be difficult, agonizing, a dreadful exercise, a terrible occupation.
Think of Shakespeare and Melville and you think of thunder, lightning, wind. They all knew the joy of creating in large or small forms, on unlimited or restricted canvases. These are the children of the gods.
How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike.
Really knowing is good. Not knowing, or refusing to know, is bad, or amoral, at least. You can’t act if you don’t know. Acting without knowing takes you right off the cliff.
Writing can be described in two verbs: Throw up and clean up.
We’re all watching each other, so there’s no chance for censorship. The main problem is the idiot TV. If you watch local news, your head will turn to mush.
It didn’t come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God.
Write. Don’t think. Relax.
I don’t know anything anymore.
I feel like I’ve been saving up a lot of things, and I don’t know what.
I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we’ve dressed him up, or is it dressed him down?
Far away, in the meadow, shadows flickered in the Mirror’s Maze, as if parts of someone’s life, yet unborn, were trapped there, waiting to be lived.
We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of on good rain and black loam.
It was only the other night everything was fine and the next thing I know Im drowning. How many times can a man go down and still be alive? I can’t breathe.
I think the sun is a flower, That blooms for just one hour.
The first thing you learn in life is you’re a fool. The last thing you learn in life is you’re the same fool.
I love writing, it’s the center of my life. If you don’t love what you do, you’d better find something else to love. Otherwise, you don’t have a reason for living.
I want to feel all there is to feel, he thought. Let me feel tired, now, let me feel tired. I mustn’t forget, I’m alive, I know I’m alive, I mustn’t forget it tonight or tomorrow or the day after that.