My reality needs imagination like a bulb needs a socket. My imagination needs reality like a blind man needs a cane.
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If you’re a writer, you know that the stories don’t come to you – you have to go looking for them. The old men in the lobby: that’s where the stories were.
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You almost have to create situations in order to write about them, so I live in a constant state of self-imposed poverty. I don’t want to live any other way.
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I didn’t really want to be part of a clique or a niche. But I also was looking for my own voice, as a writer, y’know? And a world I could call my own.
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The piano has been drinking, not me.
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Most people don’t care if you’re telling them the truth or if you’re telling them a lie, as long as they’re entertained by it.
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Don’t you know there ain’t no devil, it’s just god when he’s drunk.
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We are buried beneath the weight of information, which is being confused with knowledge; quantity is being confused with abundance and wealth with happiness.
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Oh, I got a beautiful 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille four-door. No one will ride in it with me.
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When you’re writing, you’re conjuring. It’s a ritual, and you need to be brave and respectful and sometimes get out of the way of whatever it is that you’re inviting into the room.
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I think I have an adrenaline addiction, no question about that.
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