Suicide is a form of murder— premeditated murder. It isn’t something you do the first time you think of doing it. It takes some getting used to. And you need the means, the opportunity, the motive. A...
Who have you helped today"?
(n.) Alt. of Memoirs
Be good, or good at it.
This is our purpose: to make as meaningful as possible this life that has been bestowed upon us . . . to live in such a way that we may be proud of ourselves, to act in such a way that some part of us...
Everything bleeds into everything and fiction is just this funny desperate little attempt to staunch the bleeding.
What can we make of the inexpressible joy of children? It is a kind of gratitude, I think—the gratitude of the ten-year-old who wakes to her own energy and the brisk challenge of the world. You though...
There was no time to lose, no time to waste in rest or play. The life of the earth comes up with a rush in the springtime.
So they all went away from the little log house. The shutters were over the windows, so the little house could not see them go. It stayed there inside the log fence, behind the two big oak trees that...
In writing you can always change the ending or delete a chapter that isn’t working. Life is uncooperative, impartial, incontestable.
With patience and perseverance my day will come!
The landscape is bathed in the honeyed light of morning. Sometimes the memory of winter comes again. And my days are colored reveries of you, my nights sensuous
The features of character are carved out of adversity.
I was always aware that Jack loved women not only for their bodies but for the stories that came into being as they interacted with him--they were part of his road, the infinite range of experience th...
Our stories are our best gifts--treasure and share them!
The move away from writing poetry was gradual. It was a gentle slope into a muddy pond; it was a collection of choices. There was no one thing that took the pen from my hand. Life got in the way. Poet...
Alone, I relished the bird songs, the drone of hushed conversation from neighboring tables, and the gentle lapping of waves sliding on the shore. I didn't feel the passage of time. There was no destin...
Mates, to my sisters and me, are seen mainly as shadows of the people they’re involved with. They move. They’re visible in direct sunlight. But because they don’t have access to our emotional buttons—...
I don't know where to start, one [writing student] will wail. Start with your childhood, I tell them. Plug your nose and jump in, and write down all your memories as truthfully as you can. Flannery O'...
Standing in the shower, I feel something on the back of my leg that turns out to be my ass.
During these three months I have gone through much; I mean, I have gone through much in myself; and now there are the things I am going to see and go through. There will be much to be written.