there's no clarity. there was never meant to be clarity.

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.

there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate.

Your writing", she said to me, "it's so raw. It's like a sledgehammer, and yet it has humor and tenderness. . . .

...in that drunken place you would like to hand your heart to her and say touch it but then give it back.

It was a joy! Words weren't dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.

Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.