Quotes by : Chila Woychik

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

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

The unrelenting grip of Soldier’s Syndrome slips finger by slow finger. The marrow’s been affected—emotional....

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 should have been conceived during Woodstock it’s in my blood: that burning desire to turn an absolute....

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

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

I have a bad habit of dropping verbal pellets to get a reaction, like Ursula LeGuin’s “A novelist’s....

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