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Of all writings I love only that
which is written with blood.
When I was a kid, it was commonly believed that weathermen and mailmen sucked at their jobs, that bad housewives made bad coffee, and that husbands could say things like, ”My wife, I think I’ll keep her,” without getting brained with a frying pan. Nowadays, mail delivery and weather forecasting are pretty reliable, nobody even remembers what a housewife is, and answering the question, “Does my fat ass make my ass look fat?” with anything but an emphatic No! is legal grounds for spousicide.
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"I must write it all out, at any cost.
Writing is thinking. It is more than living,
for it is being conscious of living."
