A Quote by Wally Lamb

First I laughed my way through Elinor Lipman's book of political tweets. Then I put my ear to the ground and listened to Molly Ivins guffawing from the grave. Lipman is a piquant poetic rock star!
Elinor Lipman is to tweets what Shakespeare is to sonnets.
Elinor Lipman tweets like a nightingale with an eagle eye.
I've seen guys on the street who look the part of a rock star just as much as any rock star. If you feel it and you believe it, then you can get away with it. Rock on!
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I And hailed the earth with such a cry As is not heard save from a man Who has been dead, and lives again. About the trees my arms I wound; Like one gone mad I hugged the ground; I raised my quivering arms on high; I laughed and laughed into the sky.
Many [book] even lay flat in the floor open. Their spines upward. Elinor couldn't bear to look! Didn't the monster know that was the way to break a book's neck?
Now I realize that from '72 through to about '76, I was the ultimate rock star. I couldn't have been more rock star.
Many of the writers who have inspired me most are outside the genre: Humorists like Robert Benchley and James Thurber, screenwriters like Ben Hecht and William Goldman, and journalists/columnists like H.L. Mencken, Mike Royko and Molly Ivins.
Sports and fashion move so fast that I can't possibly keep my ear to the ground. For one thing, my ear trumpet gets in the way.
We had our first meeting yesterday, and we just laughed all the way through, so if we can bottle that, then I'll be happy. We just get on, and that's half the battle.
When I go to a sci-fi convention, oh God, it's the closest thing to being a rock star I will ever know in this life. I want to be a rock star, don't you? It's a good thing to be, a rock star.
What makes you a rock star is what are you able to do when you get behind that microphone, when you put that guitar in your hands, when you wield those drumsticks, and when you raise your hand in front of twenty thousand people: do they respond? That's being a rock star.
When I started making music, we'd lost a lot of our great people. Rock was moving in a direction I didn't like. Rock was my generation's revolutionary, sexual, poetic, and political voice, but it had become corporatized. It was going into stadiums. It was so far removed from its basic roots.
Can't do any work with a rock star; you have to go through their lawyers and their agents and their managers and you have to book them hotel rooms. When you work with your friends, you just call them up and they come over and you record and then you go out to see a movie.
When other people first became aware of the cow, they expressed concern and anxiety. They suggested strategies for getting the animal out of Molly's parlor: remedies and doctors and procedures, some mainstream and some New Age. They related anecdotes of friends who had removed their own cows in one way or another. But after a while they had exhausted their suggestions. Then they usually began to pretend that the cow wasn't there, and they preferred for Molly to go along with the pretense.
I'm not a rock star. Sure I am, to a certain extent because of the situation, but when kids ask me how it feels to be a rock star, I say leave me alone, I'm not a rock star. I'm not in it for the fame, I'm in it because I like to play.
The rock star is dying. And it's a small tragedy. Rock stars have blogs now. I have no use for that kind of rock star.
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