“An artist is a creature driven by demons. He don’t know why they choose him and he’s usually too busy to wonder why.”

I love Virginians because Virginians are all snobs and I like snobs. A snob has to spend so much time being a snob that he has little time left to meddle with you.

A writer is congenitally unable to tell the truth and that is why we call what he writes fiction.

A fellow is more afraid of the trouble he might have than he ever is of the trouble he’s already got. He’ll cling to trouble he’s used to before he’ll risk a change.

Don’t bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.

It’s a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can’t eat for eight hours; he can’t drink for eight hours; he can’t make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work.

Success is feminine and like a woman, if you cringe before her, she will override you

No one individual can tell the truth.

Believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.

You can’t beat women anyhow and that if you are wise or dislike trouble and uproar you don’t even try to.

Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.

And sure enough, even waiting will end…if you can just wait long enough.

All l mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings, only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way.

Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

It’s all now you see: tomorrow began yesterday and yesterday won’t be over until tomorrow.

To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi.

Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose providence dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequence echoing down the generations.

There have been times in my life that I’ve had a ton of vices, and my demons have run amok for years and years and years.

Demons don’t play by the rules. They lie and they cheat and they stab in the back.

As for getting there … it’s a choice between sinning and being tricked by demons It’s a plane of evil … despair … and magic of the foulest kind.

The creative urge is the demon that will not accept anything second rate.

There’s a demon in me, and he’s still around. Without the dope, we have a bit more of a chat these days.

The past came to hunt her, but she prepared to fight her demons. She was now a fair believer of herself.

I dance with my demons and live to tell the tale.

I’m just a demon that means well. Freelance for God, but do the work of Satan.