We’re all terribly, terribly lonely. And there’s a way, at least in prose fiction, that can allow you to be intimate with the world and with a mind and with characters that you just can’t be in the real world. — David Foster Wallace, Whiskey Island, Spring, 1993.
I’ll bet there’ll come a time when you realize you’re always gonna have about as much success as you need, and that’s fine. — David Foster Wallace, from Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip with David Foster Wallace by David Lipsky. (Broadway Books; 1 edition April 13, 2010)
Look man, we’d probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is? In dark times, the definition of good art would seem to be art that locates and applies CPR to those elements of what’s… Continue reading David Foster Wallace
I have flowed, become stagnant, festered, I have fallen from above. Mass, rhythmic, in harmony with my millions of drops, I have rained. I have been earth with the earths. Foaming, humid, I have slept a faceless face down. I have. Had. Lived. Done. Been. All the words that grow before the tip of the… Continue reading Hélène Cixous
A poem is nonetheless present from the conception, from the first germ of it crossing the mind—it must be scratched for and exhumed. There is an element of timelessness. The leading atomic scientist in Australia agreed with me the other day that time does not really exist. The finished poem is present before it is… Continue reading Robert Graves
The difference between nothing and not-nothing is a line drawn on the air. One must try to draw this line. — Charles Wright, from “Bytes and Pieces,” Quarter Notes; Improvisations and Interviews (University of Michigan Press, 1995)
I love kissing. If I could kiss all day, I would. I can’t stop thinking about kissing. I like kissing more than sex because there’s no end to it. You can kiss forever. You can kiss yourself into oblivion. You can kiss all over the body. You can kiss yourself to sleep. And when you… Continue reading Sufjan Stevens