You Want To Be A Writer, Don't

Medicine Is Magical And Magical Is Art, The Boy In The Bubble, And The Baby With The Baboon Heart.

I Am Just A Poor Boy, Though My Story's Seldom Told, And I Have Squandered My Resistance, For A Pocket Full Of Mumbles, Such Are Promises. All Lies In Jest, Still A Man Hears What He Wants To Hear And Disregards The Rest...la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lala-la-la-la-la...

Philip Larkin Didn't Write For Several Years Before His Life Ended. And When He Was Asked Why He Didn't Write, He Said The Muse Deserted Him. And When I Read That, It Really Had A Profound Effect Upon Me, Sort Of Scared Me. So That's Why I Think I Have No Right To Assume That Some Thought Is Going To Come... But I Think, In My Imagination, If It Is It, There Will Probably Be Something Else I'm Interested In.

Take Me. I'm An Ordinary Player In The Key Of C. And My Will Was Broken By My Pride And My Vanity. Who's Gonna Love You When You're Looks Are Gone? God Will. Like He Waters The Flowers On Your Window Sill.

I Don't Really Like To Write At A Desk. I Like To Write When Driving In A Car. ... Once You're Working On It, You're Working On It All The Time, And Sometimes Stuff'll Come In The Middle Of The Night, In A Dream Or Something. Your Mind Is Working On It All The Time.