Happy Birthday, Julia Glass, born 23 March 1956.
- People take their same old lives wherever they go. No place is perfect enough to strip you of that.
- There were quite a lot of books throughout, tumbling out of haphazardly placed bookshelves, stacked beneath chairs, beside beds, even in the bottoms of a closet or two. But I was never a ‘collector’. My love of books is a love of what they contain; they hold knowledge as a pitcher holds water, as a dress contains the mystery of a woman’s exquisite body. Their physicality matters—do not speak to me of storing books as bytes!—but they should not inspire fetishistic devotion.
- Read like a maniac; your best teachers will always be the best writers you read.
- Understand that success in writing may (a) take a long time (for me, seven years to publish a short story, seven more to publish a book) and (b), once it arrives not offer you much in the way of financial reward.
- If you like the company of other people, try a good workshop. I am always amazed at how energising it is for most writers who attend. I got where I am the lonely way and sometimes wonder if I missed out on something—and if maybe I’d have been published sooner if I’d had a broader network. In the end, connections do help.
- Mind who you love. For that matter, mind how you are loved.
- You have not truly met someone until you have looked him or her in the eye as a soul with a place in your future.
- When it comes to life, we spin our own yarn, and where we end up is really, in fact, where we always intended to be.
- Ever noticed how sisters, when they aren’t best friends, make particularly vicious enemies?
- What is the biggest tragedy you wouldn’t be conscious of? Letting life pass you by. Living like a starfish, clinging to your one unchanging colourless rock.
- I’d rather be pleasantly surprised than fatally disappointed.
- We’re all alive the day before we die.
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