Oh love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me. I’ll be anybody you want me to be. — Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters. (W. W. Norton & Company; First Edition ~1st Printing edition, June 11, 2012) Originally published September 17th 1999.
Don’t be a cunt. — Buddha (c. 563 BCE/480 BCE – c. 483 BCE/400 BCE)
I say in speeches that a plausible mission of artists is to make people appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I am then asked if I know of any artists who pulled that off. I reply, ‘The Beatles did’. ― Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake. (RosettaBooks, August 22, 2011) Originally published 1997.
Please learn the pragmatics of expressing fear: sometimes words that seem to express really invoke. — David Foster Wallace. Infinite Jest. (Back Bay Books; 1st Paperback Ed edition February 1, 1997)
metamorphosis, n.: Love turns us into winged creatures, venturing in ways we never could have conceived in our crawling days. — David Levithan, A Lover’s Dictionary. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; First Edition (1 in number line) edition January 4, 2011)
He says when he tries to pray he gets this like image in his mind’s eye of the brainwaves or whatever of his prayers going out and out, with nothing to stop them, going, going, radiating out into like space and outliving him and still going and never hitting Anything out there, much less Something… Continue reading David Foster Wallace
I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn’t improve art. It only hindered it. A man’s soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak… Continue reading Charles Bukowski