Writing (n.) is a sheer paring away of oneself leaving always something thinner, barer, more meagre.
Writing (n.) is eternal, for therein the dead heart liveth, the clay-cold tongue is eloquent, and so, the mind, that was among us, in its writings is embalmed.
Writing (n.) is not a matter of wanting to say something. It is a matter of having something to say.
Writing (n.) is, when good, swimming under water and holding your breath.
Writing (n.) is such that great books write themselves, only bad books have to be written.
Writing (n.) is such that if it takes three months to write and only three minutes to conceive, it takes all one's life to collect the data in it.
Writing (n.) is about vulnerability. What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.
Writing (n.) is the ability to transform the barest incident into a thing of curve and contour.
Writing (n.) is not something you do because you want to say something; but because you've got something to say.