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Danh ngôn của Jim Harrison (Sứ mệnh: 8)

Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness. And they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy... or they become legend.
I used to get criticized for putting food in novels.
After a lifetime of world travel I've been fascinated that those in the third world don't have the same perception of reality that we do.
I enjoy about 1 out of 100 movies, it's about the same proportion to books published that I care to read.
My biggest pet peeve is when you go to a fine restaurant, and it's like a mausoleum inside. Good food should be joyful. There should be laughter and chatter, not people sitting there like they're in a funeral-parlor waiting room.
The big curse of America, to me, is skinless, boneless chicken breasts. They're banal and relatively flavorless. The rest of the world's trying to get some fat to eat, and we're trying to ban it from our diet.
Given free rein, our imagination can get infinite.
I work every morning, all morning, sometimes in the afternoons. Then sometimes I hunt in the afternoons - quail, doves, grouse up north - but just to stay alive, because writers die from their lifestyle but also from their lack of movement.
You do manage a somewhat religious attitude toward your art. It is a calling rather than a job.
Marriage is survived just on the basis of ordinary etiquette, day in and day out. Also cooking together helps a lot... I've seen all these marriages that failed. Those people are always hollering at each other. That doesn't work.
We are supposed to write poetry to keep the gods alive.
I don't trust anybody that doesn't do good work. I don't give them any credibility. If they can't write, why should I believe anything they have to say?
I like grit. I like love and death. I'm tired of irony.
Age focuses you. You are much better concentrated. There's more time when you travel less, don't do book tours, avoid interviews or public appearances. You walk the dogs, fish, hunt, cook and write.
I've always been intemperate in my affection for food.
The only durable sense of success is if you've followed your calling.
We are delightfully trapped by our memories. I can't drink a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape Vieux Telegraphe without revisiting a hotel bistro in Luzerne, Switzerland, where I ate a large bowl of a peppery Basque baby goat stew. A sip and a bite. A bite and sip. Goose bumps come with the divine conjunction of food and wine.
Poetry, at its best, is the language your soul would speak if you could teach your soul to speak.