Wherever we go we do harm, forgivingourselves as wheels do cement for wearingeach other out. We set this houseon fire, forgetting that we live within.(from “To a Meadowlark,” for M.L. Smoker)
A poet must discover that it’s his own story that is true, even if the truth is small indeed.
You don’t have to become what you already are, which is a relief.
Trying to teach creativity is the major hoax of our time along with the Iraq war and plastic surgery” ~ Snarky comment of Clive from “The River Swimmer” (pg 47)
She wasn’t trying to overcome life, only to get along with it, to blend with the processes she could scarcely understand in a world that had permitted her no solid ground.
You do manage a somewhat religious attitude toward your art. It is a calling rather than a job.
I work every morning, all morning, sometimes in the afternoons. Then sometimes I hunt in the afternoons – quail, doves, grouse up north – but just to stay alive, because writers die from their lifestyle but also from their lack of movement.
My biggest pet peeve is when you go to a fine restaurant, and it’s like a mausoleum inside. Good food should be joyful. There should be laughter and chatter, not people sitting there like they’re in a funeral-parlor waiting room.
The big curse of America, to me, is skinless, boneless chicken breasts. They’re banal and relatively flavorless. The rest of the world’s trying to get some fat to eat, and we’re trying to ban it from our diet.
After a lifetime of world travel I’ve been fascinated that those in the third world don’t have the same perception of reality that we do.
Age focuses you. You are much better concentrated. There’s more time when you travel less, don’t do book tours, avoid interviews or public appearances. You walk the dogs, fish, hunt, cook and write.
I’m afraid that eating in restaurants reflects one’s experiences with movies, art galleries, novels, music – that is, characterized by mild amusement but with an overall feeling of stupidity and shame. Better to cook for yourself.
Marriage is survived just on the basis of ordinary etiquette, day in and day out. Also cooking together helps a lot… I’ve seen all these marriages that failed. Those people are always hollering at each other. That doesn’t work.
I don’t trust anybody that doesn’t do good work. I don’t give them any credibility. If they can’t write, why should I believe anything they have to say?
Given free rein, our imagination can get infinite.
Poetry, at its best, is the language your soul would speak if you could teach your soul to speak.
We are supposed to write poetry to keep the gods alive.