What is there of the divine in a load of brick? What. . . in a barber shop?. . . Much. All.
Writing makes you feel that there is a reason to go on living. If I couldn't write, I would stop breathing.
I've been trying to fit everything in, trying to get to the end before it's too late, but I see now how badly I've deceived myself. Words do not allow such things. The closer you come to the end, the more there is to say. The end is only imaginary, a destination you invent to keep yourself going, but a point comes when you realize you will never get there. You might have to stop, but that is only because you have run out of time. You stop, but that does not mean you have come to an end.
The funny thing is that I feel close to all my characters. Deep, deep inside them all. I can't describe how deeply I love them all.
We exist for ourselves, perhaps, and at times we even have a glimmer of who we are, but in the end we can never be sure, and as our lives go on, we become more and more opaque to ourselves, more and more aware of our own incoherence. No one can cross the boundary into another – for the simple reason that no one can gain access to himself.
The story is not in the words; it's in the struggle.
When I start, I have a feeling for the characters, and maybe the shape of the story. Sometimes I might even have the last sentence in mind. But, no book I've ever written has ever ended the way I thought it would. Characters disappear, others come forward. Once you start writing, everything changes.
Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.
You're a Nought and I'm a Cross and there's nowhere for us to be, nowhere for us to go where we'd be left in peace. . . That's why I started crying. That's why I couldn't stop. For all the things we might've had and all the things we're never going to have.
They are very different. Women who are empowered by it and have choices based off of their sexuality, are very different from the ones that are being taken advantage of.
All the citizens of a state cannot be equally powerful, but they may be equally free