The truly great writer does not want to write: he wants the world to be a place in which he can live the life of the imagination. The first quivering word he puts to paper is the word of the wounded angel: pain.
—Henry Miller
When a great artist dies, there is the moment when the world understands it will never again have a new creation from that mind, that heart, that vast soul. It is a loss beyond measure, but what that soul has left us is a gift beyond time.
Rest in everything, Cormac McCarthy
why do musicians keep trying to write love songs when hozier already wrote “if I was born as a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies”
@adroitjournal is hiring a Senior Editor who will lead the expansion of The Adroit Journal‘s publication of short stories, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction!
Interested volunteers should apply via Submittable.
https://t.co/ub8Q144Jc7