Should one be shallow enough to view existence as a system of rewards and punishments, one soon learns that we pay as dearly for our triumphs as we do for our defeats.
I journey to the east, where I have been told, there are men who have taught death some manners.
Those people who recognise that imagination is reality’s master, we call sages, and those who act upon it, we call artists.
I sweet potato what I sweet potato.
Something has got to hold it together. I’m saying my prayers to Elmer, the Greek god of glue.
Nobody quite knew what to make of the moon any more.
Some folks hide, and some folks seek, and seeking, when it’s mindless, neurotic, desperate, or pusillanimous can be a form of hiding.
People tend the take everything too seriously. Especially themselves. Yep. And that’s probably what makes ’em scared and hurt so much of the time. Life is too serious to take that seriously.
Hold on to your divine blush, your innate rosy magic, or end up brown. Once you’re brown, you’ll find out you’re blue. As blue as indigo. And you know what that means. Indigo. Indigoing. Indigone.
Be your own flying saucer! Rescue yourself!
Death is simple. Life is messy. Give me life, the more complicated the better.
Meet me in Cognito, baby. In Cognito, we’ll have nothing to hide.
In fiction, when you paint yourself into a corner, you can write a pair of suction cups onto the bottoms of your shoes and walk up the wall and out the skylight and see the sun breaking through the clouds. In nonfiction, you don’t have that luxury.
Don’t confuse symmetry with balance.
Unhappiness is the ultimate form of self-indulgence.
I went to a large consolidated school in Appalachia. And I wrote the story when I was in the second grade and I took it up to the third floor to the school newspaper office that was written and edited by juniors and seniors.
The enemy is the tyranny of the dull mind.
It was autumn, the springtime of death.
In Seattle, I soon found that my radical ideas and aesthetic explorations – ideas and explorations that in Richmond, Virginia, might have gotten me stoned to death with hush puppies – were not only accepted but occasionally applauded.
And it rained a screaming. And it rained a rawness. And it rained a plasma. And it rained a disorder.