All language is an aspiration to music.

— Steve Almond

Art arises from loss. I wish this weren't the case. I wish that every time I met a new woman, and she rocked my world, I was inspired to write my ass off. But that is not what happens. What happens is we lie around in bed eating chocolate and screwing. Art is what happens when things don't work out, when you're licking your wounds. Art is, to a larger extent than people would like to think, a productive licking of the wounds.

— Steve Almond

But the real life of a writer resides in showing up at the keyboard every day, with the necessary patience and mercy, and making the best decisions you can on behalf of your people. It’s a slow process. It often feels hopeless, more like an affliction than an art form. Most of us will have to find our readers one by one, in other words, and against considerable resistance. If anything qualifies us as heroic, it’s that private perpetual struggle. Put down the magazine, soldier. Forget about the other guy. Remember who you are.

— Steve Almond

Eventually, I headed to the bathroom, and I mention this only because I saw in that bathroom the most quintessentially American artifact I have ever encountered: a bright blue rubber mat resting in the bottom of the urinal emblazoned with the following legend:EpplyWorld's Cleanest Airport Omaha, NE God bless our relentless idiotic optimism.

— Steve Almond

If You Can Stand It, Play the Long Game. . . What I mean here is that you have to remain committed to the ultimate goal, which isn’t to win the immediate approval of the online world, or dazzle a workshop, but to improve your storytelling day by day. Finding the right balance of feedback—encouragement versus vigorous criticism—will help immeasurably. But your own commitment has to be to the process of improvement, not to the anticipated reward. If it’s any consolation, I’m still working on this final lesson.

— Steve Almond

In practice, the Internet functions more frequently as a hive of distraction, a simulated world through which most of us flit from one context to the next. . .

— Steve Almond

It's like this when you fall hard for a musician. It's a crush with religious overtones. You listen to the songs, and you memorize the words and the notes and this is a form of prayer. You attend the shows and this is the liturgy. Furthermore, you're interested in relics -- guitar picks, set lists, the sweaty napkin applied to His brow. Furthermore, you set up shrines in your room. It's not just about the music. It's about who you are when you listen to the music and who you wish to be and the way a particular song can bridge that gap, can make you feel the abrupt thrill of absolute faith.

— Steve Almond

Misery loves another idiot with a jukebox where his soul should be.

— Steve Almond

Music has become more pervasive and portable than ever. But it feels less previous in the bargain. I don't want to confuse artistic and commercial value, but it's just a fact that some kid who rips an album for free isn't going to give it the same attention he would if it cost him ten bucks. At what point does convenience become spiritual indolence? I realize this makes me sound like an old fart, but sometimes I get nostalgic for the days when the universe of recorded sound wasn't at our fingertips, when we had to hunt and wait and - horror of horrors - do without, when our longing for a particular record or song made it feel sacred.

— Steve Almond

Narration, after all, isn’t just a literary function. It represents the human capacity to tell stories in such a manner that they yield meaning. Television replaced this concerted quest for meaning with a frantic pursuit of wonder.

— Steve Almond