we need more passion in clever stories, not technical quality; all these heartless worlds are too tedious, draining, and childish; each word should drive me forward, and give me a reason to care.
how strange would it be, to describe in words what you see, when you could send a picture or a video from a phone; how strange is it, then, to use a book to do something a screen could do better? it’s a line of thinking I can’t escape, every time I read typical, scenery-rich story-books.
best to always add some nonsense, since sense is sometimes a senseless kind of mischief
maybe all these mass-produced books from these mechanical authors are out-completing the art of instinct and intensity, and is there no hope?
we should always humanize our monsters and deify our heroes: this is progress
are we tired, yet, of four hundred pages to prove a paragraph’s worth of philosophy? a character must live, a world must breathe, and your single, sad idea is neither parent nor child nor any part of the living art; but still, ideas should be found everywhere, like flowers in a field, like corpses on a hill, everywhere in the world, and on the tip of your character’s tongue, like they are in this sad world.
do we all try to be mature, sometimes, like it’s a competition? when we just want to cry and fall in love and complain and fight and believe in something, sometimes, before the end.