Buff Egan Quotes & Sayings

Writer's groups work for some new writers, not for others. I was never cut out for a writer's group. So much depends on the people in it. What are they criticizing about your work? Grammar, syntax, plot holes? Or are they criticizing your personal style, your world view and your personal philosophy? If they're criticizing the latter, it's not a good group for you, no matter what support you might think you're getting from it. Your style, your perspective, and your philosophy of life are the main things you have to sell; they are what make you different, and you shouldn't
in fact you can't
change them. — Dean Koontz

I had a terror - since September - I could tell to none - and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground - — Jerome Charyn

The opportunity makes the thief. — Stieg Larsson

In our day, there are stresses and fractures of the human-animal bond, and some forces at work would sever it once and for all. They pull us in the wrong direction and away from the decent and honorable code that makes us care for creatures who are entirely at our mercy. Especially within the last two hundred years, we've come to apply an industrial mind-set to the use of animals, too often viewing them as if they were nothing but articles of commerce and the raw material of science, agriculture, and wildlife management. Here, as in other pursuits, human ingenuity has a way of outrunning human conscience, and some things we do only because we can
forgetting to ask whether we should. — Wayne Pacelle

It is through poetry that we give name to those ideas which are-until the poem-nameless and formless, about to be birthed, but already felt. — Audre Lorde

Community is and must be inclusive. The great enemy of community is exclusivity. Groups that exclude others because they are poor or doubters or divorced or sinners or of some different race or nationality are not communities; they are cliques
actually defensive bastions against community. — M. Scott Peck

The things she most wanted to tell him would lose their meaning the moment she put them into words. — Haruki Murakami

My eyes meet his eyes.
"You were a jerk," I say.
His hands move to my cheeks. "I'm sorry."
I pull away, but I can only go an inch before I bump into lacrosse sticks, not that I really want to go any farther. "Nope. No way. You do not get to kiss me yet."
He pouts. — Carrie Jones