Why do you write?
I write as a function. Without it I would fall ill and die. It’s as much a part of one as the liver or intestine, and it’s just as glamorous.
Does pain make a writer?
Pain doesn’t make anything, nor does poverty. The artist is there first. What becomes of him depends upon his luck. If his luck is good (worldly-speaking) he becomes a bad artist. If his luck is bad, he becomes a good one. In relation to the substance involved.
Charles Bukowski, Portions of a Wine-Stained Notebook (via gitana-traviesa)