When you write a story you're telling yourself the story. When you rewrite your main job is taking out all the things that are NOT the story.
I gradually realized that I was seeing another example of creative ebb, another step by another art on the road that may indeed end in extinction.
What we like to think of ourselves and what we really are rarely have much in common....
Life is fair. We all get the same nine-month shake in the box, and then the dice roll. Some people get a run of sevens. Some people, unfortunately, get snake-eyes. Its just how the world is.
When Annie's treatin, you best be eatin.
There'a a phrase, "the elephant in the living room", which purports to describe what it's like to live with a drug addict, an alcoholic, an abuser. People outside such relationships will sometimes ask...
You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.
You want to remember that while you're judging the book, the book is also judging you.
I was being paid to do what I loved, and there's no gig on earth better than that; it's like a license to steal.
It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.
And when there are enough outsiders together in one place, a mystic osmosis takes place and you're inside.
Faith is, by its very definition, belief without proof.
Why must you hurt me, when I love you so? When I can do nothing else nor want to, for love made me and fed me and kept me in better days? Why will you cut me, and disfigure my face, and fill me with w...
Homesickness is not always a vague, nostalgic, almost beautiful emotion, although that is somehow the way we always seem to picture it in our mind. It can be a terribly keen blade, not just a sickness...
He supposed that even in Hell, people got an occasional sip of water, if only so they could appreciate the full horror of unrequited thirst when it set in again.
He lay back, put his arm over his eyes, and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave. A brave man could think. A coward couldn't.
Am I weird?Yeah. But so what? Everybody's weird.
Being sorry for myself is a luxury I can't afford.
French is the language that turns dirt into romance.
A lot of us grow up and we grow out of the literal interpretation that we get when we're children, but we bear the scars all our life. Whether they're scars of beauty or scars of ugliness, it's pretty...