A writer’s brain is full of little gifts, like a piñata at a birthday party. It’s also full of demons, like a piñata at a birthday party in a mental hospital.
Colin Nissan
(via laughterkey)
Source: mcsweeneys.net
There was once a conjurer who boasted that he had become god-like. One god happened to overhear, and challenged him to a contest.
“Can you do this?” the god asked, scooping up a handful of dirt and making it into a bird. They watched the bird fly away.
“Sure,” said the conjure-man, and reached down for a handful of raw material.
“Hey,” said god. “Use your own dirt.”
I am a scrapbook.
