I have always been a wretched speaker. My vocabulary dwells deep in my mind and needs paper to wriggle out into the physical zone. Spontaneous eloquence seems to me a miracle. I have rewritten—often several times—every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasures.
Vladimir Nabokov (via mirroir)
This has bothered me for years and convinced me (many times over) that I’m an idiot. I’m terrible at opening my mouth and letting the words fall where they may.
(via apoetreflects)