there are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails.

the whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.

When I begin to doubt my ability to work the word, I simply read another writer and know I have nothing to worry about. My contest is only with myself, to do it right, with power, and force, and delight, and gamble.

Where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die.

If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life.

There will always be something to ruin our lives, it all depends on what or which finds us first. We are always ripe and ready to be taken.

The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer, and worse than that, to know a number of other writers. Like flies on the same turd.