“The world doesn't fully make sense until the writer has secured his version of it on the page. And the act of writing is strangely more lifelike than life.”
“The writer has no responsibility other than to jack off in bed alone and write a good page.”
“...but ever since she returned to my life...life doesn't make complete sense. But it definitely makes more sense than it used to.”
“The world doesn't make sense until you force it to.”
“Writing is a solitary business. It takes over your life. In some sense, a writer has no life of his own. Even when he’s there, he’s not really there.”
“Nothing expresses Kafka’s innermost sense of self more profoundly than his lapidary definition of “writing as a form of prayer”: he was a writer. Not a man who wrote, but one to whom writing was the only form of being, the only means of defying death in life.”