As For Oblivion, Well, We Can Wait

Suffering Of Sentient Beings Is Like Decay; It Fertilizes The Growth Of Their Souls.

‎there's No Way To Cheat A Sensualist Like Me, Somebody Who Can Die Laughing For Hours Over The Pattern Of The Carpet In A Hotel Lobby.

There Are Too Many Other Inexplicable Things Around Us--horrors, Threats, Mysteries That Draw You In And Then Inevitably Disenchant You. Back To The Predictable And Humdrum. The Prince Is Never Going To Come, Everybody Knows That; And Maybe Sleeping Beauty's Dead.

Go Where The Pleasure Is In Your Writing. Go Where The Pain Is. Write The Book You Would Like To Read. Write The Book You Have Been Trying To Find But Have Not Found. But Write. And Remember, There Are No Rules For Our Profession. Ignore Rules. Ignore What I Say Here If It Doesn't Help You. Do It Your Own Way. Every Writer Knows Fear And Discouragement. Just Write.the World Is Crying For New Writing. It Is Crying For Fresh And Original Voices And New Characters And New Stories. If You Won't Write The Classics Of Tomorrow, Well, We Will Not Have Any.

You Sense My Loneliness, (...) My Bitterness At Being Shut Out Of Life. My Bitterness That I'm Evil, That I Don't Deserve To Be Loved And Yet I Need Love Hungrily. My Horror That I Can Never Reveal Myself To Mortals. But These Things Don't Stop Me, Mother. I'm Too Strong For Them To Stop Me. As You Said Yourself Once, I Am Very Good At Being What I Am. These Things Merely Now And Then Make Me Suffer, That's All