Posts tagged quote
In the words of the masterful Jean-Luc Picard....
April 20, 2020, 9:00 PM
It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.
About writing, according to Haruki Murakami
March 8, 2020, 12:00 AM
Writing novels, to me, is basically a kind of manual labor. Writing itself is mental labor, but finishing an entire book is closer to manual labor. It doesn’t involve heavy lifting, running fast, or leaping high. Most people, though, only see the surface reality of writing and think of writers as involved in quiet, intellectual work done in their study. If you have the strength to lift a coffee cup, they figure, you can write a novel. But once you try your hand at it, you soon find that it isn’t as peaceful a job as it seems. The whole process—sitting at your desk, focusing your mind like a laser beam, imagining something out of a blank horizon, creating a story, selecting the right words, one by one, keeping the whole flow of the story on track—requires far more energy, over a long period, than most people ever imagine. You might not move your body around, but there’s grueling, dynamic labor going on inside you. Everybody uses their mind when they think. But a writer puts on an outfit called narrative and thinks with his entire being; and for the novelist that process requires putting into play all your physical reserve, often to the point of overexertion.
posting and stuff
January 25, 2020, 12:00 AM
Posting on my social media is like talking to someone who constantly interrupts me during a conversation. In other words, it really doesn't matter what I say.
an ode to a girl
October 19, 2019, 1:25 PM
have you ever met someone where, no matter how much time you spend apart, as soon as you're together again, it seems that no time has passed? That's how it's like when I'm with her.
valentine's aftermath
February 15, 2005, 7:12 PM
> "Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a dificult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
I well may be. I do not think I would.
*by Edna St. Vincent Millay*