When he is sick, every man wants his mother.
Should you protect profits? Yes. But run for the hills? No.
Writing turns you into somebody who's always wrong. the illusion that you may get it right someday is the perversity that draws you on. What else could? As pathological phenomena go, it doesn't completely wreck your life.
There were many hours when I never quite know how I'd gotten there or why I stayed.
The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.
The only obsession everyone wants: 'love.' People think that in falling in love they make themselves whole? The Platonic union of souls? I think otherwise. I think you're whole before you begin. And the love fractures you. You're whole, and then you're cracked open.