Quotes by : Chila Woychik

I don’t need to write. Madness or suicide are other options, though not nearly as compelling. But I....

Writing is making love under a crescent moon: I see shadows of what’s to come, and it’s enough; I....

Split your skull—a hatchet works well enough. Take a more delicate instrument—a scalpel, perhaps—and....

Nonfiction. I didn’t choose it as much as it chose me. It squatted and birthed me one raw winter day....

Today I fed him right off the bat, and only checked Facebook twice.

In this book, much is metaphorical, not as it seems. It’s written for writing’s sake, as if I were....

Without the hard we stay too soft, and heaven is reduced to myths like life. Theology aside, it’s plain....

I don’t want to believe in boxes or one-way relationships; I’m naïve, you see. I’d rather moon....

Writing makes me hard, like a fisherman, and brown from the heat. Tossing out and reeling in is a job....

This piece of earth I billet grows small. Bullets of time dart past, dropping shards of opportunity at....