I Have No Mouth. And I Must

If You Let The Image Of The Messenger Get In The Way Of Whatever Message There May Be, However Large Or Small, That's Your Problem, Not His.

Perfection. Excellence. What A Passionate Lover. But Once Having Tasted The Lips Of Excellence, Once Having Given Oneself To Its Perfection, How Dreary And Burdensome And Filled With Anomie Are The Remainder Of One's Waking Hours Trapped In The Shackled Lock-step Of The Merely Ordinary, The Barely Acceptable, The Just Okay And Not A Stroke Better.

I Am Not One Of These People Who Instantly Takes Umbrage When He's Corrected Or - I Love Being Corrected.

You're A Writer. And That's Something Better Than Being A Millionaire. Because It's Something Holy.

I Cannot Pay Attention To What People Say About My Work. For Me, Personally, I Am Just This Shards-and-ashes Human Being, Who Really Gets Upset When Someone Says Something Bad About Me. If It's True, I Cop To It. If I Have Any Good Qualities, It's That.