Complaints About Reality Are Immature.

I Still Maintain That An Ordinary Human Being Has The Right To Be Horrified By A Mangled Body Seen On An Afternoon Walk.

And What You Do Is You Go Into Where Your Anger Is, If You're Writing Anger, You Go Into Where Your Hatred Is, If You're Writing Hatred. Your Joy Is, If You're Writing Joy. You Find The Source Of The Energy That Draws Hatred, Anger, Joy, Etc., Etc., Etc. That's What You Have To Find. That's What You Do As An Actor And That's What You Do As A Writer. And You Bring People To The Page.

There Are No Beginnings, Not Even To Stories. There Are Only Places Where You Make An Entrance Into Someone Else's Life And Either Stay Or Turn And Go Away.

I Write Against Violence. I Write Against Fascism. I Write Against One Person Dominating Another.

Everyone Who’s Born Has Come From The Sea. Your Mother’s Womb Is Just A Sea In Small. And Birds Come Of Seas On Eggs. Horses Lie In The Sea Before They’re Born. The Placenta Is The Sea. Your Blood Is The Sea Continued In Your Veins. We Are The Ocean — Walking On The Land.