As artists, I think that one of the good qualities we have is that we're imaginative. We're resourceful. We like challenges.
People will do anything, anything, for a really nice laugh.
If I had a staff of even one person, or could tolerate a small amphetamine habit, or entertain the possibility of weekly blood transfusions, or had been married to Vera Nabokov, or had a housespouse of even minimal abilities, a literary life would be easier to bring about. (In my mind I see all your male readers rolling their eyes. But your female ones - what is that? Are they nodding in agreement? Are their fists in the air?)
I've come to realize that life, while being everything, is also strangely not much. Except when the light shines on it a different way and then you realize it's a lot after all!
Love is the answer, said the songs, and that's OK. It was OK, I supposed, as an answer. But no more than that. It was not a solution; it wasn't really even an answer, just a reply.
You know, as fiction writers, if our instincts are off, we can't pay our bills.
All the world's a stage we're going through.
Some people think technology has the answers.
A smart salesperson listens to emotions not facts.
I think there must be a place inside of us where dreams go and wait their turn.
Fear binds people together. And fear disperses them. Courage inspires communities: the courage of an example - for courage is as contagious as fear. But courage, certain kinds of courage, can also isolate the brave.