Quotes by Ron Koertge

Im not a big fan of inspiration. Im too old to sit and wait for the muse to give me a little kiss... I write a lot, and Im not afraid to make mistakes or to write badly. I can alsways fix something weak and dull. But I cant fix a blank page.

No wonder I want to be Robert Mitchum: big, strong, super-cool, with those Freon eyes of his. Thats who I was pretending to be a minute ago - Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past. - Ben

Margaux looks around the table; this is not working. All of a sudden shes thinking about a safe room, something shes only heard of but suddenly wants: water, oxygen, bulletproof door, dead bolts, a thousand books. Utterly quiet. Completely silent. No girls she barely knows in saggy leather pants, no girls in mesh strippers gloves and jeans sanded thin as a bees wing, and no girls who cant stay home one night a year because they are always and forever out. On their way to. Coming from.And then her heart open. Just a little, but it does. Because she remembers all that. How she felt then: the self-reproach, the utter confusion... Thats why her heart opens. For those girls at the table who always feel baffled and sad, tender and malign, repulsive and desirable, innocent and contemptuous of innocence.So she cries. For them, mostly. For herself a little... everything hesitates. So that for a second theres no sound in the enormous room but that of Margaux sobbing.

Dark night of the soul,” said Jesus, “Happens to everybody sooner or later.

Little kids I dont mind. Every kid wants a pony. Its grown-ups that get my robe in a knot. Stop with the begging, okay? Adore me for a change. Or give thanks. I like gratitude. Or ask for guidance. But oh, no. Its always the pony.

The guys cant take their eyes off Colleen... one of them... probably sees her just like I do, shes the gatekeeper to another world.

Statements make sense for somebody who needs advice. I’m not giving advice. I don’t instruct. At my best, I delight. That’s my job.

Youre a miracle, Walker. Your fingers are. Your toes are. Your crushing sadness and guilt are.

OMG. Hes a gift shop, a lamb kebab with mint,/a solar panel poetry machine with biceps. Hes the path/through the dark woods, the light on the page, a postcard/from the castle and a one-way ticket there. Hes the most/astounding arrangement of molecules ever!/Just look at those tights! An honest-to-God prince at last.