The first act of insight is throw away the labels.
My continuing passion is to part a curtain, that invisible veil of indifference that falls between us and that blinds us to each other's presence, each other's wonder, each other's human plight.
One place understood helps us understand all places better
it doesn t matter if it takes a long time getting there; the point is to have a destination.
People are mostly layers of violence and tenderness wrapped like bulbs, and it is difficult to say what makes them onions or hyacinths.
It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass. Yet regardless of where they come from, I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them - with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself. Still illiterate, I was ready for them, committed to all the reading I could give them.
The excursion is the same when you go looking for your sorrow as when you go looking for your joy.
We are the breakers of our own hearts
The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order the continuous thread of revelation.
A story is not the same thing when it ends as it was when it began.
A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.
Write about what you don't know about what you know.
Every story would be another story, and unrecognizable if it took up its characters and plot and happened somewhere else ... Fiction depends for its life on place. Place is the crossroads of circumstance, the proving ground of, What happened? Who's here? Who's coming?
Insight doesn't happen often on the click of the moment, like a lucky snapshot, but comes in its own time and more slowly and from nowhere but within.
No art ever came out of not risking your neck.
Southerners love a good tale. They are born reciters, great memory retainers, diary keepers, letter exchangers . . . great talkers.
I like the feeling of being able to confront an experience and resolve it as art.
One place comprehended can make us understand other places better.
The mystery lies in the use of language to express human life.
How can you go out on a limb if you do not know your own tree? No art ever came out of not risking your neck. And risk--experiment--is a considerable part of the joy of doing.
There is absolutely everything in great fiction but a clear answer.
A sheltered life can be a daring life as well. For all serious daring starts from within.
I'm not very eloquent about things like this, but I think that writing and photography go together. I don't mean that they are related arts, because they're not. But the person doing it, I think, learns from both things about accuracy of the eye, about observation, and about sympathy toward what is in front of you... It's about honesty, or truth telling, and a way to find it in yourself, how to need it and learn from it.
Writing a story or a novel is one way of discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer's own life.
If you haven't surprised yourself, you haven't written.
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