A poet is wounded into speech, and he examines these wounds, meticulously, to discover how to heal them. The bad poet harangues at the pain and yowls at the weapons that lacerate him; the great poet explores the inflamed lips… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
Pain ... after you've lived with it long enough, isn't pain anymore. It's something else. — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
A poet is wounded into speech, and he examines these wounds, meticulously, to discover how to heal them. The bad poet harangues at the… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
'You spin in the sky, the world spins under you, and you step from land to land, while we . . .' She turned… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
“People probably do hear watches go tic-tok. But I’m sure my childhood clock went tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic…Why” — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
“I wanted to get out, Vyme, to keep going and not be trapped, to be free… only I was cruel. I had the chance… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
A number of things in 'Dhalgren' are just meant to function as mysteries. They're mysteries when the book begins, and they're mysteries when the… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
The pulp hero, though he may be a renegade, is a guy who doesn't feel. Anything. Ever. And for the adolescent male - pummeled… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
“they were nice in a useless sort of way, which is, after all, the only way to be truly nice.” — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
“Neurotics, proceed with delusions of grandeur. Napoleon Bonaparte, take the lead. Jesus Christ, bring up the rear. Simulate severe depression. Non-communicative with repressed hostility.” — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
“Do you follow the wrestling? Most people think it's illegal, but you can watch it there. Ruby and Python are on display this evening.” — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
Spending practically every minute of your day on pure survival is an absolutely boring life. — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
