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“Love sucks. Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes it’s just another way to bleed.” — Laurell K. Hamilton (Blue Moon) -
“Nobody should think about winter in August. It’s like a goose walking over your grave.” — Stephen King, “Night Surf” (via musicistheart) -
“Ellen, only last night, asked, ‘Daddy, when will we be rich?’ But I did not say to her what I know: ‘We will be rich soon, and you who handle poverty badly will handle riches equally badly.’ And that is true. In poverty she is envious. In riches she may be a snob. Money does not change the sickness, only the symptoms.” — John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent (via fortunenglory) -
“If you liked being a teenager, there’s something really wrong with you.” — Stephen King (via makelovetothemoon) -
“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” — Jack Kerouac, On The Road (via morganbucket) -
“One regret dear world, that I am determined not to have when I am lying on my deathbed is that I did not kiss you enough.” — Hafiz (via theartofadventure) -
“The world of art has room for you. It can hold you. It can reflect back to you something besides despair. Come in. And this, which Mary Shelley told me in a dream when I was 14: You are not a monster.” — Lidia Yuknavitch (via nouvelliste) -
“Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly…And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via awritersruminations) -
“I learned to pick up each piece, one at a time, from my pile of potential matches and try to fit it from any angle into the socket, then discard it and move on. Each failure is meaningless. It’s not me, it’s the pieces, and I have to, absolutely must, try each and every piece every possible way until I find one that fits. They aren’t failures, they’re steps, small bits of progress.” — Craig Clevenger, Dermaphoria (via stringsandshakers) -
… When I sit down with pen in hand I don’t recognize or can’t remember any big intellectual or emotional differences between how I felt, THEN, isolated and writing my first novel as an unknown writer and how I felt writing my third one or how I feel today, working on what will be my fourth and fifth ones. For me, the challenges and the isolation always feel the same: the excitement of seeing some words suggesting other, better ones; the discovery of new ideas, plot lines, and images through the suggestions of the actual drafts when I reread them and most of all, the conception of the novel you have in your head and the actuality of what it is you produce on that page…the distance between my vision and its execution pretty much obsesses me and the thrill when better things come out in the execution than were in your head, is a hard thrill to equal!
—Alan Warner, BOMB 67, 1999
