Everyone has talent. What's rare is the courage to follow it to the dark places where it leads.
I have accepted fear as part of life – specifically the fear of change... I have gone ahead despite the pounding in the heart that says: turn back....
I have accepted fear as a part of life -specifically the fear of change ... I have gone ahead despite the pounding in the heart that says: turn back. ...
Everyone has a talent. What is rare is the courage to follow that talent to the dark place where it leads.
It takes courage to lead a life. Any life.
Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn't.
Bigamy is having one husband too many. Monogamy is the same.
There are no atheists on turbulent airplanes.
I write lustily and humorously. It isn't calculated; it's the way I think. I've invented a writing style that expresses who I am.
And the trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more.
The soul is awakened through service.
Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. . . . It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more.
Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more.
Without the gods, how would I sing?' I asked. With your own voice,' he said.
The ultimate sexist put-down: the prick which lies down on the job. The ultimate weapon in the war between the sexes: the limp prick. The banner of the enemy's encampment: the prick at half-mast. The symbol of the apocalypse: the atomic warhead prick which self-destructs. That was the basic inequity which could never be righted: not that the male had a wonderful added attraction called a penis, but that the female had a wonderful all-weather cunt. Neither storm nor sleet nor dark of night could faze it. It was always there, always ready. Quite terrifying, when you think about it. No wonder men hated women. No wonder they invented the myth of female inadequacy.
the body is wiser than its inhabitants. the body is the soul. the body is god’s messenger.
Critics write out of intellectual exercise, not poets. Poets write straight from the heart.
Most people in this country are looking for literature that is useful. They feel that just exploring their feelings is good enough - they should be reading about leveraged buy-outs or how to get thin. We live in a culture that is so absolutely, madly focused on commercialism and on creating money and completely turned away from any other kind of creative value. People don't generally turn to poetry unless they're bereaved or have fallen in love. Or in adolescence, when their feelings are very strong and turbulent. I think most of us are dying for lack of spirit in this culture.
I stand in the mist and cry, thinking of myself standing in the mist and crying, and wondering if I will ever be able to use this experience in a book.
Nothing quite has reality for me till I write it all down--revising and embellishing as I go. I'm always waiting for things to be over so I can get home and commit them to paper.