I live or die for hip-hop and it's a beautiful form but you're a writer first and foremost.
Like all kids with divorced parents, I have an abundance of holidays.
When what you want is a relationship, and not a person, get a dog.
It's good to let God pick a man for you. We don't do so well when we pick them ourselves. They end up lipsticks in a drawer, all those wrong colors you thought looked so good in the package.
I guess forgiveness, like happiness, isn’t a final destination. You don’t one day get there and get to stay.
You can hold a secret, hold it so far in that it drives nearly every thought and every move you make- your very heartbeat, almost.
Just because it turned out bad, doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant.
As to my writing short pieces, there are two reasons I can give you. The first is my invincible laziness. The second is that I've always been fond of short stories, and it always took me some trouble to get through a novel.
Our minds sometimes see what our hearts wish were true.
I want my permanent address to be in Oklahoma. Someday, when I get married and I have kids, that's where I want to raise my kids.
There is a popular superstition that "realism" asserts itself in the cataloguing of a great number of material objects, in explaining mechanical processes, the methods of operating manufactories and trades, and in minutely and unsparingly describing physical sensations. But is not realism, more than it is anything else, an attitude of mind on the part of the writer toward his material, a vague indication of the sympathy and candour with which he accepts, rather than chooses, his theme?