[b]Erica Jong
There are no atheists on turbulent airplanes.[/b]
Well, maybe one or two.
The trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.
No, the trouble is that no one really knows where to draw the fucking line.
Sometimes it was worth all the disadvantages of marriage just to have that: one friend in an indifferent world.
If friend is the right word.
You are always naked when you start writing; you are always as if you had never written anything before; you are always a beginner. Shakespeare wrote without knowing he would become Shakespeare.
Still, he probably had a pretty good idea.
There is nothing fiercer than a failed artist. The energy remains, but, having no outlet, it implodes in a great black fart of rage which smokes up all the inner windows of the soul. Horrible as successful artists often are, there is nothing crueler or more vain than a failed artist.
Any of them here?
I had gone to graduate school because I loved literature, but in graduate school you were not supposed to study literature. You were supposed to study criticism. Some professor wrote a book ‘proving’ that Tom Jones was really a Marxist parable. Some other professor wrote a book ‘proving’ that Tom Jones was really a Christian parable. Some other professor wrote a book ‘proving’ that Tom Jones was really a parable of the Industrial Revolution. . . . Nobody seemed to give a shit about your reading Tom Jones as long as you could reel off the names of the various theories and who invented them. My response was to sleep through as much of it as possible.
And then there’s Engelbert Humperdinck.