Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons.
Robertson DaviesRead
The most original thing a writer can do is write like himself. It is also his most difficult task.
Interpretation
A writer's authenticity is their greatest strength, yet achieving it can be quite challenging.
This quote emphasizes that true originality in writing comes from expressing one's own unique voice and perspective. While this authenticity is what sets a writer apart, it is also a difficult endeavor, as writers often grapple with external influences and self-doubt that may distort their genuine style.
In practice
In a writing workshop, you might use this quote to encourage participants to find their unique voice.
Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons.
Pessimism is a very easy way out because it is a short view of life. If you look at what is happening around us today, you can't help but feel that life is a terrible complexity of problems. But if you look back a few thousand years, you realize that we have advanced fantastically. If you take a long view, I do not see how you can be pessimistic about the future of mankind.
This is one of the cruelties of the theatre of life; we all think of ourselves as stars and rarely recognize it when we are indeed mere supporting characters or even supernumeraries.
Everything matters. The Universe is approximately fifteen billion years old, and I swear that in all that time, nothing has ever happened that has not mattered, has not contributed in some way to the totality.
The egotist is all surface; underneath is a pulpy mess and a lot of self-doubt. But the egoist may be yielding and even deferential in things he doesn't consider important; in anything that touches his core he is remorseless.
The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealized past.
When you're a ranchera singer, you represent your country. It's a God-given gift.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep
A vivid image compels the whole body to follow.
They ... asked me: 'How do you make your pictures?' I was puzzled ... I said, I don't know, it's not important.
Who are you, a hundred years from today, reading my poetry with curiosity?
I always like to see if the art across the street is better than mine.
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