Here I am, ninety years old and ready for the cooling board, using a brand new Macintosh computer, and there you sit, twenty-two and gorgeous, fresh as a new peach, yet scrawling on a yellow legal pad like an old maid in a Victorian romance.
I always like to see enlightened parents like that; it gives me hope for the future.
In these silences something may rise.
Swear to me swear to me that if it isn’t dead you’ll all come back.
High school isn’t a very important place. When you’re going you think it’s a big deal, but when it’s over nobody really thinks it was great unless they’re beered up.
Come on back and we’ll see if you remember the simplest thing of all – how it is to be children, secure in belief and thus afraid of the dark.
Silent white light filled the world. And the righteous and unrighteous alike were consumed in that holy fire.
Cut him. Cut him while I stand here and watch. I want to see the blood flow. Don’t make me tell you twice.
Clear communication between selves – the surface self and the deep self – is the enemy of self-doubt. It slays confusion.
Art is the concrete artifact of faith and expectation, the realization of a world that would otherwise be little more than a veil of pointless consciousness stretched over a gulf of mystery.
Working with him was sort of like trying to defuse a bomb with somebody standing behind you and every now and then clashing a pair of cymbals together. In a word, upsetting.
Animals don’t know as much about jealousy as people, but they’re not ignorant of it, either.
Anyone who thinks impressions of old movie actors is funny absolutely cannot be trusted. I think it’s like a law of nature.
You’re dead, George. You just don’t have the sense to lie down.
Late last night and the night before, tommyknockers, tommyknockers knocking on my door. I wanna go out, don’t know if I can ’cuz I’m so afraid of the tommyknocker man.
In many ways, Eulah-Beulah prepared me for literary criticism. After having a two-hundred-pound babysitter fart on your face and yell Pow!, The Village Voice holds few terrors.
I’ve spread my legs in the backseat in a creative sense quite a few times.
I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12 – Jesus, did you?
And in the gunslinger’s mind, those words echoed: You dare not.
The color white is the absence of memory.