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You can imagine my embarrassment when I killed the wrong guy. Joseph 'Joe Cargo' Valachi		Tuesday Jul 01, 2025
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The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves. The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown. John Hoyer Updike

Quote Author: John Hoyer Updike

John Hoyer Updike

John Hoyer Updike

John Hoyer Updike (born March 18, 1932 in Shillington, Pennsylvania) is an American writer. Updike's most famous work is his Rabbit series ( Rabbit, Run ; Rabbit Redux ; Rabbit Is Rich ; Rabbit At Rest ; and Rabbit Remembered ). Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest both won Pulitzer Prizes for Updike. Describing his subject as "the American small town, Protestant middle class," Updike is well known for his careful craftsmanship and prolific writing, having published 22 novels and more than a dozen short story collections as well as poetry, literary criticism and children's books. Hundreds of his stories, reviews, and poems have appeared in The New Yorker since the 1950s.

Other John Hoyer Updike Quotes

What art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit.

The refusal to rest content, the willingness to risk excess on behalf of one's obsessions, is what distinguishes artists from entertainers, and what makes some artists adventurers on behalf of us all.

Life is a nacho. It can be yummy-crunchy or squishy-yucky. It just depends on how long it takes for you to start eating it.

Life is a razor, you are always in hot water or a scrape.

Life is a roller coaster, you have your ups and downs unless you fall off.

Life is a video game. No matter how good you get, you are always zapped in the end.

Life is like an overlong drama through which we sit being nagged by the vague memories of having read the reviews.

Swallow a toad in the morning and you will encounter nothing more disgusting the rest of the day.

Possession diminishes perception of value, immediately.

Vagueness and procrastination are ever a comfort to the frail in spirit.

Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.

Writing and rewriting are a constant search for what it is one is saying.

Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right, or doing it better.

Rain is grace; rain is the sky condescending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.

The crooked little tomato branches, pulpy and pale as if made of cheap green paper, broke under the weight of so much fruit; there was something frantic in such fertility, a crying-out like that of children frantic to please.

The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves. The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown.

Perfectionism is the enemy of creation, as extreme self-solicitude is the enemy of well-being.