factory's reviews
24 reviews

 … as an offering of peace. I’m going to present you with a bouquet of roses, which flowers I have had the foresight to’ve obtained this morning. 

— my critical voice with writing is a tiny little thing whimpering off in a corner of my mind. When it tries to stand up, I throw bricks at it until it goes back to its corner and leaves me the hell alone.

I quoted White Nights

("My God, a moment of bliss
Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?")

Thinking that'd get rid of you

Even little dolls with sparrows' hearts sometimes remember they were sparrows once.

“Christ,” he said, “what American knows anything about his grandparents?”

— for the first time in my life I was conscious of a positive (if feeble) movement of love in my heart. I vomited. I passed out.

"There is nothing down here," said the pale thing indistinctly. "Nothing but dust and damp and forgetting."