Quotes by : Chila Woychik

I speak, I speak, and truth at that. Writers are a curious breed: brooding, fickle, alternately loving....

Life is flinching in the midst of breathing, gasping at the thought of dying. It’s climbing ropeless....

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

sunset and evening star hunching and bending sleeping and slipping virus pneumonia coughing and crying....

I read a book, am vortexed in with no escape; my face contorts, eyelids frost, breath comes short, body....

This world rubs me raw, scours me smooth like an SOS pad put to a grease-caked skillet. And pain: it....

Writing is a beast to tame, an energy to transform. Whip that toad into a prince and French kiss it to....

Let’s face it: suffering discredits goodness. I’m agnostic in practice though faith-based in theory.....

You want to get your book to press. You rush it through. Revision number twenty—done. Do you really....

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