You ever have that feeling? Like you’ve known someone your whole life but you don’t know them at all.
There is nothing more guaranteed to reduce a man to the essentials than to live beneath the sky.
The older one becomes the quicker the present fades into sepia and the past looms up in glorious technicolour
Once the grammar has been learned, writing is simply talking on paper and in time learning what not to say.
Everything else you grow out of, but you never recover from childhood.
It is the generation of the unemphatic. Steal, kill, lie, fornicate, but beware of indulging with conviction.
I am of the firm belief that everybody could write books and I never understand why they don't. After all, everybody speaks. Once the grammar has been learnt it is simply talking on paper and in time learning what not to say.
In the United States, though power corrupts, the expectation of power paralyzes.
The key question is, no matter how much you absorb of another person, can you have absorbed so much of them that when that primary brain perishes, you can feel that that person did not totally perish from the earth. . . because they live on in a 'second neural home'?. . . In the wake of a human being's death, what survives is a set of afterglows, some brighter and some dimmer, in the collective brains of those who were dearest to them. . . Though the primary brain has been eclipsed, there is, in those who remain. . . a collective corona that still glows.
Children have a primal need to know who they are, to love and be loved by the two people whose physical union brought them here. To lose that connection, that sense of identity, is to experience a wound that no child-support check or fancy school can ever heal.
I was still very hopeful that much work lay ahead of me. Perhaps because much of what I had worked on or thought about had not yet been put into writing, I felt I still had things in reserve. Given this optimistic nature, I feel this way even now when I am past sixty.