Caitlin Temme

“Please God, please Knut Hamsun, don't desert me now. I started to write and I wrote:

The time has come," the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —”
― John Fante, Dreams from Bunker Hill

“There's something to walking with autumnal thoughts through the evening fog. One likes to compose poems at a time like that.”
― Hermann Hesse, Demian: Die Geschichte von Emil Sinclairs Jugend

“...the single ingredient in American literature that distinguishes it from other literatures of the world is a kind of giddy, illogical hopefulness. It is quite technically sophisticated while remaining ideologically naïve.”
― John Irving, The Hotel New Hampshire

“I went to the library. I looked at the magazines, at the pictures in them. One day I went to the bookshelves, and pulled out a book. It was Winesburg, Ohio.. I sat at a long mahogany table and began to read. All at once my world turned over. The sky fell in. The book held me. The tears came. My heart beat fast. I read until my eyes burned. I took the book home. I read another Anderson. I read and I read, and I was heartsick and lonely and in love with a book, many books, until it came naturally, and I sat there with a pencil and a long tablet, and tried to write, until I felt I could not go on because the words would not come as they did in Anderson, they only came like drops of blood from my heart.”
― John Fante, Dreams from Bunker Hill