Remember Haydn's 104 symphonies. Not all of them were great. But there were 104 of them.

What good are insights? They only make things worse.

Woke up this morning with a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read. Fought against it for a minute. Then looked out the window at the rain. And gave over. Put myself entirely in the keep of this rainy morning. Would I live my life over again? Make the same unforgivable mistakes? Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. Except for the chrome hooks, he was an ordinary-looking man of fifty or so.

This is awful. I don't know what's going to happen to me or to anyone else in the world.

Anyone can express himself or herself, but what writers and poets want to do in their work, more than simply express themselves, is communicate.

In the beginning, when I was trying to write, I couldnt turn off the outside world to the extent that I can now.