There's nothing that makes you so aware of the improvisation of human existence as a song unfinished. Or an old address book.
I have more to say than Hemingway, and God knows, I say it better than Faulkner.
justice itself is a chimera, a delusion. Justice is not a flat yardstick, applied in equal measure to an equal situation.
The most fatal thing a man can do is try to stand alone.
Resentment is the most precious flower of poverty.
Imagination takes humility, love and great courage.
The dimensions of a work of art are seldom realized by the author until the work is accomplished. It is like a flowering dream. Ideas grow, budding silently, and there are a thousand illuminations coming day by day as the work progresses. A seed grows in writing as in nature. The seed of the idea is developed by both labor and the unconscious, and the struggle that goes on between them.
I am not meant to be alone and without you who understands.
Love is the main generator of all good writing... Love, passion, compassion, are all welded together.
The closest thing to being cared for is to care for someone else.
The trouble with me is that for a long time I have just been an I person. All people belong to a We except me. Not to belong to a We makes you too lonesome.
Wherever you look there’s meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss. A fellow can’t live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness. Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear—and nobody seems to know. Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed—stupid and mean.
A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lillies of the swamp.
I meditated on love and reasoned it out. I realized what is wrong with us. Men fall in love for the first time. And what do they fall in love with? ...They fall in love with a woman. They start at the wrong end of love. They begin at the climax. Can you wonder it is so miserable? Do you know how men should love? A tree. A rock. A cloud.
the way i need you is a loneliness i cannot bear.
Comparing the Brooklyn that I know with Manhattan is like comparing a comfortable and complacent duenna to her more brilliant and neurotic sister.
But no value has been put on human life; it is given to us free and taken without being paid for. What is it worth? If you look around, at times the value may seem to be little or nothing at all. Often after you have sweated and tried and things are not better for you, there comes a feeling deep down in the soul that you are not worth much.
I´m a stranger in a strange land.
I see a green tree. And to me it is green. And you would call the tree green also. And we would agree on this. But is the colour you see as green the same colour I see as green?
We live in the richest country in the world. There's plenty and to spare for no man, woman, or child to be in want. And in addition to this our country was founded on what should have been a great, true principle - the freedom, equality, and rights of each individual. Huh! And what has come of that start? There are corporations worth billions of dollars - and hundreds of thousands of people who don't get to eat.
The mind is like a richly woven tapestry in which the colors are distilled from the experiences of the senses, and the design drawn from the convolutions of the intellect.
His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
Writing, for me, is a search for God.
The writer must hew the phantom rock.
I think we look for the differences in people because it makes us less lonely.
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