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“How much are you willing to sacrifice to achieve the level of success you desire?”
Sherman Morris“Walk the midway and hear the carnival barker.Come see the freak named after his deceased father.Come see the prince who wants to abdicate his throne.Come see the son whose name is carved on a gravestone.”
Sherman Alexie“Sure, we thought the acresThat we tilled were sacred,But how could we have knownThat wheat can haunt like ghosts”
Sherman Alexie“I haven’t been disingenuous in what I’ve said describing my perception of “truth” and “reality.” Certainly, I understand what is generally meant to be the “truth,” I understand this notion, but it’s not something I trust in, OK?The only answer that feels true (I said feels, not is) is that yes, the character Minnie is me, but she is not me. She is a projection of some tumult which originates within me, but she is not me. I use elements of myself, including my likeness, for the character, perhaps as Cindy Sherman uses herself in her work, but like Sherman’s photographs, the work itself is not any more about the creator than it is about everyone. I won’t deny that Minnie does things I have done, and that things happen to her that have happened to me, but she, unlike me, having been created, is who she is and will remain so, unchanged now. I make no attempt to create “documentary.” There is a process of dissociation that takes place when I make a story, I make creative decisions in a fugue state that I could hardly describe to you, but the end result is, I hope, a story with some meaning or resonance, something created, with a beginning, a middle and an end, an encapsulation of feeling and impression, but in no way a documentary of anything other than an “emotional truth.”If I told most interviewers that my work is “true” and that it is based on real events that occurred in my life, they would more readily accept this than they do the explanation I try to give. Sadly, what they would believe feels to me like a lie and a simplification of a process that is for me as complex and vague as life itself…”
Phoebe Gloeckner“I’m killing Zil. Clear enough? I’m putting him down.”“Whoa, man,” Edilio said. “That’s not what we do. We’re the good guys, right?”“There has to be an end to it, Edilio.” He wiped soot from his face with the back of his hand, but smoke had filled his eyes with tears. “I can’t keep doing it and never reaching the end.”“It’s not your call anymore,” Edilio said.Sam turned a steely glare on him. “You too? Now you’re siding with Astrid?”“Man, there have to be limits,” Edilio said.Sam stood staring down the street. The fire was out of control. All of Sherman was burning, from one end to the other. If they were lucky it wouldn’t jump to another street. But one way or the other, Sherman was lost.“We should be looking to save any kids that are trapped,” Edilio said.Sam didn’t answer.“Sam,” Edilio pleaded.“I begged Him to let me die, Edilio. I prayed to the God who Astrid likes so much and I said, God, if You’re there, kill me. Don’t let me feel this pain anymore.”Edilio said nothing.“You don’t understand, Edilio,” Sam said so softly, he doubted Edilio could hear him over the roar and crackle of the fire raging all around them. “You can’t do anything else with people like this. You have to kill them all. Zil. Caine. Drake. You just have to kill them. So right now, I’m starting with Zil and his crew,” Sam said. “You can come with me or not.”
Michael Grant, Lies“I chase the wind and get lost in the clouds. I'm sweep into darkness in my search for the light.”
Sherman Kennon, Chase the Wind: A Book of Poetry“Last night I missed two free throws which would have won the game against the best team in the state. The farm town high school I play for is nicknamed the "Indians," and I'm probably the only actual Indian ever to play for a team with such a mascot.This morning I pick up the sports page and read the headline: INDIANS LOSE AGAIN.Go ahead and tell me none of this is supposed to hurt me very much.”
Sherman Alexie, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven“A lie is still a lieeven if it’s disguisedas the truth.”
Sherman Kennon, Chase the Wind: A Book of Poetry