Archives for category: Words

bq_left
Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.
bq_right

- Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875-1926

爱情开了我们一个玩笑
张智霖

爱情仿佛云朵
出没总是那么自由
完全不能照计划来走
碰头 分手
像作了一场梦

如果不曾交手
如果我们不曾心动
现在的生活会如何
快乐 寂寞
还是继续沉默

我们都太骄傲
我们也都太懦弱
所以把机会都错过
爱情 开了我们一个玩笑
我们都太脆弱
我们也都太慎重
爱给的时间却不够
今后 只有想念曾经你我

凝望 微笑 亲吻 牵手

這首歌似乎是為你寫的…

* * * * * *

掉了
張惠妹
阿密特

詞/吳青峰  
曲/吳青峰

心疼的玫瑰 半夜還開著
找不到匆匆掉落的花蕊
回到現場卻已來不及
等待任何回音都不可得

微弱的風箏 冬天裡飄著
回不去手中纏線的那個
沒有藍天 又何必去飛
怎麼適合

黑色笑靨掉了 雪白眼淚掉了
該出現的所有表情瞬間掉了
瞳孔沒有顏色 結了冰的長河
回憶是最可怕的敵人

故事情節掉了 主角對白掉了
該屬於劇中的對角戲也掉了
胸口沒有快樂 斷了翅的白鴿
不枯萎的藉口全掉了

曾經唱過的歌 分享過的笑聲
在心中不斷拉扯
想念不能承認 偷偷擦去淚痕
冬天過了還是會很冷

黑色笑靨掉了 雪白眼淚掉了
該出現的所有表情瞬間掉了
瞳孔沒有顏色 結了冰的長河
回憶是最可怕的敵人

故事情節掉了 主角對白掉了
該屬於劇中的對角戲也掉了
胸口沒有快樂 斷了翅的白鴿
不枯萎的藉口全掉了

bq_leftYou meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she’s beautiful, she’ll think you’re sweet, but she won’t believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding. And sometimes that is enough. But there’s a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you… Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn’t seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen.bq_right

—Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of The Wind

As seen here, via a tweet by Litford.

bq_leftEach time out should be a swing for the fences. Don’t do base-running drills. You can do these on your own time.bq_right

—Tobias Wolff

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftMy method back then was very much a fiction writer’s approach to journalism. I began to think of the way you world start a short story and begin with a character, and you hold that pen in your hand, and push it along, and wait to see what will develop. I had this theory that I would sort of put myself out there, and it was as if I was the pen, letting my own intuitions and circumstances guide me.bq_right

—Francisco Goldman

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftThe narrator of my nonfiction pieces is not the same person I am—she is a lot more articulate and thinks of much cleverer things to say that I usually do. bq_right

—Janet Malcolm

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftAll of these declarations of what writing ought to be, which I had myself—though, thank god I had never committed them to paper—I think are nonsense… You write what you write, and then either it holds up or it doesn’t hold up. There are no rules or particular sensibilities. I don’t believe in that at all anymore.bq_right

—Jamaica Kincaid

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftThe dream, surely, that we all have, is to write this beautiful paagraph that actually is describing something but at the same time in another voice is writing a commentary on its own creation, without having to be a story about a writer.bq_right

—Ian McEwan

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

happiness-cover

… is anything but, and isn’t a love story.

bq_leftI’ve never thought of beauty and truth as equivalent in any way. Some truths are ugly, sometimes beautiful, very often ambiguous and invisible. It’s that ambiguous and invisible realm I’m always reaching for in my writing.bq_right

bq_leftBecause when we retrieve a memory, we don’t retrieve the original but rather our last retrieval of that memory: we don’t walk around with original, pure imprints of our past. We edit them through the present. Neuroscientists call this reconsolidation. Freud called it nachträglichkeit.bq_right

bq_leftReading is the avenue to writing, and after a while, the sheer bulk of influences begins to eliminate the question of influence. Even when my memory is spotty for a particular work I loved, I think it lives inside me in some form. Books we respond to become us. They don’t remain intact, of course, or unedited in our recollection, but nobody really writes alone.bq_right

—Siri Hustvedt

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftWhat the novelist needs is not diverse opinions but a personal system of storytelling upon which his opinions can take a firm stand.bq_right

bq_leftWomen often act as mediums in my novels. They guide the protagonist to “places out of the ordinary,” and they make the story move.bq_right

bq_leftWhat I want to do is write about lots of different characters in lots of different situations, and that way to create stories with greater breadth. New character types are beginning to appear in my books because I know now how to write them.bq_right

—Haruki Murakami

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftI see writing as part of an ongoing attempt to really, viscerally, believe that everything matters, suffering is real, and death is imminent.bq_right

—George Saunders

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

bq_leftIn my own case, I certainly don’t walk into my room and sit down at my desk feeling like a boxer ready to go ten rounds with Joe Louis. I tiptoe in. I procrastinate. I delay. I come in sideways, kind of sliding through the door… I don’t burst into the saloon with my six-shooter ready. If I did, I’d probably shoot myself in the foot.bq_right

bq_leftYou try to surprise yourself. You want to go against what you’ve done before. You want to burn up and destroy all your previous work; you want to reinvent yourself with every project. Once you fall into habits, I think, you’re dead as an artist.bq_right

bq_left… the novel is really one of the only places in the world where two strangers can meet on terms of absolute intimacy. The reader and the writer make the book together. You as a reader enter the consciousness of another person, and in doing so, I think you discover something about your humanity, and it makes you feel more alive.bq_right

—Paul Auster

Taken from The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers

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