She stared at Raven in a long second of shocked silence, before sagging to the floor.
The day I became a writerit wasn't the day a whore paid me in sexin exchange for one of my bookswhich happened often and more and moreas time went onit wasn't the first time someone actually paid for one of my bookswhich happens less and less as time goes onIt was the day I realizedthat everything is created by manGod, Satan, Judas, phobias, excrement, even deatheven womeneverything is created by manSo I said to myselfshit, let me make something let me tape together some words and sentencesand proseand predicatesand the residual shit that sticks to my ass after I wipeand compose a new kind of thingBut then I realized that others had discovered thisfor themselves as wellAnd suddenly the world became a jungleWhere everyone eats each other aliveAnd shits out the same shit
Wanderlust and the Whiskey Bottle Parallel: Poems and Stories
Quote Detail
The day I became a writerit wasn't the day a whore paid me in sexin exchange for one of my bookswhich happened often and more and moreas time went onit wasn't the first time someone actually paid for one of my bookswhich happens less and less as time goes onIt was the day I realizedthat everything is created by manGod, Satan, Judas, phobias, excrement, even deatheven womeneverything is created by manSo I said to myselfshit, let me make something let me tape together some words and sentencesand proseand predicatesand the residual shit that sticks to my ass after I wipeand compose a new kind of thingBut then I realized that others had discovered thisfor themselves as wellAnd suddenly the world became a jungleWhere everyone eats each other aliveAnd shits out the same shit
Quick Answer
What this quote page tells you
This canonical quote page keeps the full saying, the attributed author, any linked work, and the topic tags together so the quote can be cited from one stable URL.
Related Quotes
More quote cards from the same area
Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.
It felt oily inside her head. There were strings of Xavier Stancliff caught inside of her, holding on and spiderwebbing out as he plotted and waited and thought: this is all the bitch deserves. Swallowing, Sandra pushed herself off the bed. It was late and the room was dark. She could see the bundled lump of Jack beneath his own covers. He__ left the television on and the light flickered down the tiny hall. Shadows danced and Sandra shivered as she left the room.In another life, she would have told Danny and Jack about the man. Danny would have whispered, __t__ alright,_ and smoothed back her hair from her face and kissed her, lips dry and coarse on her forehead. Then he and Jack would__e left while she was sleeping. They would__e trampled the flowers and climbed into Xavier Stanliff__ window and when Sandra woke up there would have been one less man in the world.
They say when you meet somebody that looks just like you, you die.
Snape looked horrified. 'You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?''Don't look shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?''Lately, only those whom I could not save', said Snape.