my friend met me here bearing gifts:
for when you come to tink of it, the only way to love a person is not, as the stereotyped christian notion is, to coddle them and bring them soup when they are sick, but by listening to them and seeing and believing in the god, in the poet, in them. for by doing this, you keep the god and keep the poet alive and make it flourish.
how does the creative impulse die in us? the english teacher who wrote fiercely on the margin of your theme in blue pencil: "trite, rewrite," hlepd to kill it. critics kill it, your family. families are great murderers of the creative impulse, particularly husbands. older brothers sneer at younger brothers and kill it. there is that american pasttime known as "kidding," - with the result that everyone is ashamed and hang-dog about showing the slightest enthusiasm or passion or sincere feeling about anything.
brenda ueland if you want to write
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