I wish I had another chance to write that school composition, 'What I Did Last Summer.' When I wrote it in fifth grade, I was scared and just recorded: 'It was interesting. It was nice. My summer was fun.' I snuck through with a B grade. But I still wondered, How do you really do that? Now it is obvious. You tell the truth and you depict it in detail: 'My mother dyed her hair red and polished her toenails silver. I was mad for Parcheesi and running the sprinkler catching beetles in a mason jar and feeding them grass. My father sat at the kitchen table a lot staring straight ahead, never talking, a Budweiser in his hand. . Natalie Goldberg
To my fellow authors heed these words with much importance, " It is redundant for a true writer to sell their soul for literary fame, since the soul is a writer's inner voice...
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Marcus G Monroe
There is always room in my life for a unicorn.(i.e. fantasy)
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Renata Ammazzini
A meeting is a collective tacit confession of participants’ unwillingness to work.
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Pawan Mishra
Money changes people. This process is more commonly known as trading.
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Kevin Focke
Sex with a married woman ten years his senior was stress free and fulfilling, because it couldn't lead to anything
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Haruki Murakami
