Harry Crews Quotes & Sayings

If you're a person of feeling, if you feel things keenly and deeply - and I don't think you can be a writer unless you feel things not just for the moment but they live in you - that costs you. I don't think you can be a writer of consequence and merit unless you have grave doubts about yourself, about what you've done and who you are and whom you've hurt. And that costs you. And so, it all costs you. What is left is what all of us are going to get, a chance to know what it's like to die. — Harry Crews

I've never enjoyed myself. I'm incapable of enjoying myself. There's just some people who don't enjoy themselves very much. — Harry Crews

Hell came right along with God, hand in hand. The stink of sulfur swirled in the air of the church, fire burned in the aisles, and brimstone rained out of the rafters. From the evangelist's oven mouth spewed images of a place with pitchforks, and devils, and lakes of fire that burned forever. God had fixed a place like that because he loved us so much. — Harry Crews

If you're gonna write, for God in heaven's sake, try to get naked. Try to write the truth. Try to get underneath all the sham, all the excuses, all the lies that you've been told. — Harry Crews

Alcohol whipped me. Alcohol and I had many, many marvelous times together. We laughed, we talked, we danced at the party together; then one day I woke up and the band had gone home and I was lying in the broken glass with a shirt full of puke and I said, 'Hey, man, the ball game's up'. — Harry Crews

James Agee. He was born a prince of the language, and so he remains. And Capote. I don't care what kind of stupid ass remarks he makes, he can write; he really can. When he's on he's really on. Updike would be twice the writer he is if he weren't such a hot dog. God knows, he's a word man. Eudora Welty, great writer. Erskine Caldwell, by the way is a helluva lot better than he's ever been given credit for. But if you ask me, "Who's your favorite writer?" there's no answer to that. That's like saying, "What do you like best for breakfast?" Some mornings you want a beer; some mornings you want strawberries; some mornings you want, God help us, Frostie Crispie Flakes with a lot of sugar, and some mornings you want your old lady. — Harry Crews

Writers spend all their time preoccupied with just the things that their fellow men and women spend their time trying to avoid thinking about ... It takes great courage to look where you have to look, which is in yourself, in your experience, in your relationship with fellow beings, your relationship to the earth, to the spirit or to the first cause - to look at them and make something of them. — Harry Crews

Blood is our only permanent history, and blood history does not admit of revision — Harry Crews

I think all of us are looking for that which does not admit of bullshit ... If you tell me you can bench press 450, hell, we'll load up the bar and put you under it. Either you can do it or you can't do it - you can't bullshit. Ultimately, sports are just about as close to what one would call the truth as it is possible to get in this world. — Harry Crews

He did not know what love was. And he did not know what good it was. But he knew he carried it around with him, a scabrous spot of rot, of contagion, for which there was no cure. — Harry Crews

The artist lives in an atmosphere of perpetual failure. — Harry Crews

Survival is truimph enough. — Harry Crews

Men to whom God is dead worship one another. — Harry Crews

I believe some people are just too damn smart to write fiction. — Harry Crews

Doubt makes a man decent. — Harry Crews

Joe Lon and Willard slipped out of their shirts. Willard flipped over and walked around in the dirt on his hands. Joe Lon took the bottle of whiskey out of his back pocket, set it carefully on the step of the Winnebago, checking out Susan Gender's red pants again as he did. Then he went into a steady handstand and did six dips, his nose just short of the dirt each time he went down. They both came off their hands and looked at Duffy.
"I'm impressed," said Duffy, shortly. "What the hell are you, gymnasts?"
"Drunks," said Joe Lon picking up the bottle. — Harry Crews

He knew and accepted for the first time that things would not be different tomorrow. Or ever. Things got different for some people. But for some they did not. There were a lot of things you could do though. One of them was to go nuts trying to pretend things would someday be different. — Harry Crews

If you wait until you got time to write a novel, or time to write a story, or time to read the hundred thousands of books you should have already read - if you wait for the time, you will never do it. 'Cause there ain't no time; world don't want you to do that. World wants you to go to the zoo and eat cotton candy, preferably seven days a week. — Harry Crews

There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with. — Harry Crews

I first became fascinated with the Sears catalogue because all the people in its pages were perfect. Nearly everybody I knew had something missing, a finger cut off, a toe split, an ear half-chewed away, an eye clouded with blindness from a glancing fence staple. And if they didn't have something missing, they were carrying scars from barbed wire, or knives, or fishhooks. But the people in the catalogue had no such hurts. They were not only whole, had all their arms and legs and eyes on their unscarred bodies, but they were also beautiful. — Harry Crews

God love the car. It has shown the naked heart that lives in all of us. Man invented the car but the car
out of pure malevolence no doubt
changed the history of the world by reinventing man. — Harry Crews

Everybody he knew was going quietly mad from being tied on a leash that was too short. — Harry Crews

There ought to be a law against the sun rising and setting for you in somebody else. — Harry Crews

White people were dangerous and snakes were dangerous and now the two were working together, each doing what the other told it to. She was sure she had seen a snake in a weeded ditch with the head of a white man. Right after she came out of the house on the way to Big Joe's, which she had immediately forgotten, she saw it, long and black and diamond-patterned in the ditch with a white man's head. It had blue eyes. The bluest eyes any white man ever had. She was sure she had seen it. She thought she had seen it. Maybe it was only a dream or a memory of another time. Whatever it was, she still saw it every time she closed her eyes, coiled there on the back of her eyelids, blue-eyed and dangerous. — Harry Crews

That was the only decision there was once upon a time: what to do with the night. — Harry Crews

She felt the snake between her breasts, felt him there, and loved him there, coiled, the deep tumescent S held rigid, ready to strike. She loved the way the snake looked sewn onto her V-neck letter sweater, his hard diamondback pattern shining in the sun. It was unseasonably hot, almost sixty degrees, for early November in Mystic, Georgia, and she could smell the light musk of her own sweat. She liked the sweat, liked the way it felt, slick as oil, in all the joints of her body, her bones, in the firm sliding muscles, tensed and locked now, ready to spring
to strike
when the band behind her fired up the school song: "Fight On Deadly Rattlers of Old Mystic High."
Harry Crews- A Feast of Snakes — Harry Crews

I am not perfect." It came out in a rush of breath. "See I thought I was. Thank God I ain't. See a perfect thing ain't got a chance. The world kills it, everything perfect. (Listen to him!) Now see a thing that ain't perfect, it grows like a weed. Yeah, like a weed! A thing that ain't perfect gets hand clapping, smiles, takes the wire an easy winner. But the world ain't set up right if you perfect. You lible to run right into a brick wall. Looks like suicide. All the weeds say, looka there, it suicide! — Harry Crews

Teaching, real teaching, is - or ought to be - a messy business. — Harry Crews

He had been hurt doing everything he had ever done. He expected it, even wanted it. Nothing centered a man like pain. Nothing drove the irrelevant bullshit our of your mind like the taste of your own blood. Duffy always wanted to tell people who were worried about the future of their children, or about God and the order of the universe, to go out and break a rib or two. A few broken ribs threw all thoughts of children, God and the order of the universe right out the window. Nobody with broken ribs ever had free-floating anxiety, or so Duffy was convinced. It was cheaper that a psychiatrist and never so humiliating. — Harry Crews

The truth of the matter was stories was everything and everything was stories. Everybody told stories. It was a way of saying who they were in the world. It was their understanding of themselves. It was letting themselves know how they believed the world worked, the right way and the way that was not so right. — Harry Crews

What the artist owes the world is his work; not a model for living. — Harry Crews

So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has ever been done by well-rounded people. The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges, because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design. — Harry Crews

It was not any one thing that scared him. It was everything. It was his life. His life terrified him. He didn't see how he was going to get through the rest of it. — Harry Crews

The writer's job is to get naked ... — Harry Crews

You get a tattoo like this and a 'do like this, and wear a shirt where the tattoo shows, and you walk into a room of people and feel the animosity, the disapproval, the how-dare-you. You can feel it coming off them like heat off a stove. And the thing I want to ask them is, how have I deserved this, what have I done that so offends you? I have not asked you to cut your hair this way. I have not asked you what you thought of it, or to approve it. So why do you feel this way towards me? If you can't get past my 'too - my tattoo - and my 'do - the way I got my hair cut - it's only because you have decided there are certain things that can be done with hair and certain things that cannot be done with hair. And certain of them are right and proper and decent, and the rest indicate a warped, degenerate nature; therefore I am warped and degenerate. 'Cause I got my hair cut a different way, man? You gonna really live your life like that? What's wrong with you? — Harry Crews

Speaks well of a man to need a little something in this world. I wouldn't trust a man who could git through it cold sober. — Harry Crews

survival is triumph enough. — Harry Crews

All Sam Peckinpah ever did in his movies was show that getting hit on the chin doesn't sound like [makes a small popping noise]. When one grown man hits another grown man in the face, it splatters like an overripe tomato. And it's not fun getting killed. It's bloody and gory and altogether unpleasant. That's all Sam Peckinpah ever did. — Harry Crews

The writers job is to get naked,
To hide nothing.
To look away from nothing.
To look at it.
To not blink.
To be not embarrassed or shamed of it.
Strip it down and lets get down to where the blood is, the bone is.
Instead of hiding it with clothes and all kinds of other stuff, luxury! — Harry Crews

Find a cunt that fits you and you'll never be the same", he would say. "Never find any peace. See, it won't matter if she dishonors you. It won't matter if she lies to you, hurts you, spits in your face, fucks other men. All you'll want to know is: are you coming back to me? Are you going to let me have that fantastic cunt one more time? One more time with that cunt that fits you is all you'll care about. Ruin your family, ruin yourself, nothing will matter. — Harry Crews

The real artist with no tear in his eye and no sadness in his heart, puts the pages in the fire and does it again!"
"All art is a metaphor it's by telling you one thing when your mean something else.
The Old Man in the Sea is not about fishing!"
"Writing a book is like torture that you don't know, but after it's done and there it is. It's a joy like unlike anything else, I think it's the closest that a man can come to knowing what is feels like to have a baby. — Harry Crews