. . . maybe it was better to break a man's leg than to break his heart.
I've always been religiously inclined, but it doesn't come up in most of my books.
The great thing about a short story is that it doesn't have to trawl through someone's whole life; it can come in glancingly from the side.
There are some tales not for telling, whether because they are too long, too precious, too laughable, too painful, too easy to need telling or too hard to explain. After all, after years and travels my secrets are all I have left to chew on in the night.
Ma's still nodding. "You're the one who matters, though. Just you. " I shake my head till it's wobbling because there's no just me.
Writing is nearly always a matter of finding whatever your brain needs to trick it into being creative, and in my case, a tiny little bit of fact just seems to work.
It’s called mind over matter. If we don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. ” When a bit of me hurts, I always mind.
That, let us rail at women, scorn and flout 'em, We may live with, but cannot live without 'em.
In creativity the way will be found for subject to pass into object, the identity of subject with object will be restored. All the great creators have foreseen this turning-point. Today, in the depths of culture itself and in all its separate spheres, this crisis of creativity is ripening.
Forget the self and you will fear nothing, in whatever level or awareness you find yourself to be.
But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.