1
We scarified a mosquito. I bet that's what did it. It was probably a virgin too.Kelley Armstrong
2
I have come to see this fear, this sense of my own imperilment by my creations, as not only an inevitable, necessary part of writing fiction but as virtual guarantor, insofar as such a thing is possible, of the power of my work: as a sign that I am on the right track, that I am following the recipe correctly, speaking the proper spells. Literature, like magic, has always been about the handling of secrets, about the pain, the destruction and the marvelous liberation that can result when they are revealed. Telling the truth, when the truth matters most, is almost always a frightening prospect. If a writer doesn’t give away secrets, his own or those of the people he loves; if she doesn’t court disapproval, reproach and general wrath, whether of friends, family, or party apparatchiks; if the writer submits his work to an internal censor long before anyone else can get their hands on it, the result is pallid, inanimate, a lump of earth. The adept handles the rich material, the rank river clay, and diligently intones his alphabetical spells, knowing full well the history of golems: how they break free of their creators, grow to unmanageable size and power, refuse to be controlled. In the same way, the writer shapes his story, flecked like river clay with the grit of experience and rank with the smell of human life, heedless of the danger to himself, eager to show his powers, to celebrate his mastery, to bring into being a little world that, like God’s, is at once terribly imperfect and filled with astonishing life. Originally published in The Washington Post Book World.Michael Chabon
3
God, how we get our fingers in each other's clay. That's friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make of each other.Ray Bradbury
4
She fucking turns me inside out."" Women who matter have a way of doing that." Lucas scowled. "We sound like a couple of women, talking about feelings. I think Sascha's having a bad influence on me."" You started it.Nalini Singh
5
But you don't need anything. You have everything, ' I tell him. Rip looks at me. 'No I don't.'' What?'' No I don't.' There's a pause and then I ask, 'Oh, shit, Rip, What don't you have?'' I don't have anything to loose.Bret Easton Ellis
6
What do you do?' she asks, holding out the vest.' What do you do?'' What do you do?' she asks, her voice shaking. 'Don't ask me, please. Okay, Clay?''Why not?' She sits on the mattress after I get up. Muriel screams.' Because... I don't know, ' she sighs. I look at her and don't feel anything and walk out with my vest.Bret Easton Ellis
7
I am not the potter, nor the potter's wheel, but the potter's clay, does it depend on the value achieved intrinsic as much as the value of the clay as the wheel and master craftsmanship?Stephen King
8
With red clay between my toes, and the sun setting over my head, the ghost of my mother blows in, riding on a honeysuckle breeze, oh lord, riding on a honeysuckle breeze.Brenda Sutton Rose