'Ghosts,' I said. 'Ghosts are why we can't make love.'
The vast body of literature, in every domain, is composed of hand-me-down ideas. The question — never resolved, alas! — is to what extent it would be efficacious to curtail the overwhelming supply of cheap fodder. One thing is certain today — the illiterate are definitely not the least intelligent among us. If it be knowledge or wisdom one is seeking, then one had better go direct to the source. And the source is not the scholar or philosopher, not the master, saint, or teacher, but life itself — direct experience of life. The same is true for art. Here, too, we can dispense with ‘the masters.’
The word creative drives me crazy. I don’t like to regard it as therapy.
To be an artist or a writer is to be this weird thing — a hand worker in an era of mass production.
Susan Sontag on writing, productivity, elitism, and the purpose of literature (via explore-blog)