It is as though some old part of yourself wakes up in you, terrified, useless in the life you have, its skills and habits destructive but intact, and what is left of the present you, the person you ha...
Of course, the truth is that no one likes change. People in hell not only refuse to leave it, they invite you in, too. Even people who have blasted the other lives that touched their own blasted lives...
I have been sometimes way too attracted by my own villains because in a way they seem to hold the secret to the heart of the narrative.
What would be frightening about me jumping out of the bush wearing a pig mask is not the sudden surprise, not me, and not the pig mask, but that the ordinary world had split open for a moment to revea...
Nothing is whole, not for too damned long. The world is half night.
Every writer must acknowledge and be able to handle the unalterable fact that he has, in effect, given himself a life sentence in solitary confinement.
I generally wade in blind and trust to fate and instinct to see me through.
Intellectual labor is a common technique for the avoidance of thinking.
I'm being haunted, she blurted out. My dear, he cooed. Turn yourself into a tourist attraction and charge admission.
It didn’t have a real ending. It just slipped backward when other things happened.
Nobody can protect anybody else from vileness. Or from pain. All you can do is not let it break you in half and keep on going until you get to the other side.
He did not recognize himself either. He was a totally new being, bald, covered with grease and blood, pink and blue eyed: he was his own baby...He was a great fat chuckling baby, and he shat and peed...
It is not believed that a people capable of inventing the genre of oral painting could have spawned the viaduct killer, and in any case no ghetto resident is permitted access to any other area of the...
When my childhood began coming back to me, I went off the rails for a bit. I became what you could charitably call colorful. After a year or so of disgrace, I remembered that I was thirty-odd years ol...
You know how when a woman gets angry, really angry, she can reach way back into herself and find rage enough to blow any man to pieces
Because dead people are just like you and me, they still want things. They look at us all the time, and they miss being alive. We have taste and color and smell and feelings, and they don’t have any o...
Charlie Carpenter rang Lily Sheehan's bell, and when she opened the door he gave her a blue rose. This stands for dying, for death. My daddy met the man who grew them, and when the man tried to run aw...
Why did God make lonely people? Answer: He was lonely, too.
Whatever his circumstances and surroundings, it was only a dead imagination that could call him a failure.
I liked the place I came from.But a lot of what I liked about it was that I had come from there.
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