When I write, I write obsessively. I try to pace myself, but some fires are too hot to put out. — Carla H. Krueger
When I write, I write obsessively. I try to pace myself, but some fires are too hot to put out. — Carla H. Krueger
When I write, I write obsessively. I try to pace myself, but some fires are too hot to put out. — Carla H. Krueger
When I write, I write obsessively. I try to pace myself, but some fires are too hot to put out. — Carla H. Krueger
When I write, I write obsessively. I try to pace myself, but some fires are too hot to put out. — Carla H. Krueger
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When I write, I write obsessively. I try to pace myself, but some fires are too hot to put out.

— Carla H. Krueger
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More “Carla h krueger” Quotes

Beyond the boundaries of herself, her parents and the enclosing garden walls, were open fields and other waiting places — Carla H. Krueger, Sleeping with the Sun
On some days she was able to see both sun and moon at the same time. Like feuding cousins, they hung in two corners of t — Carla H. Krueger, Sleeping with the Sun
Trap yourself inside your own brain, switch off the light, block all the escape routes, then turn your back on everythin — Carla H. Krueger, Coma House
Nearly two years of dates. Still no question. Her mother and father want to set a proper date. Still no question. Her fr — Carla H. Krueger, Coma House
He remembers how someone – he forgets who – once said in a sarcastic tone, “Isn’t she just Little Miss Sweetness and Lig — Carla H. Krueger, Coma House
Time is not an enemy as such, but a missing person, sending cryptic postcards from the past. — Carla H. Krueger, Coma House
Youngsters deserve no opinions. — Carla H. Krueger, Sleeping with the Sun
Most people assume I write at night because of the kind of books I write, but I can shut out the light with my mind. — Carla H. Krueger
Some ancient oversight had nearly taken his sight, but this sad fuck was already blind inside. — Carla H. Krueger, The Social Worker
For no real reason – well, perhaps because of the seriousness under the trees or Nader’s hair, which was very messy and — Carla H. Krueger, Sleeping with the Sun
A silence absorbed them both – a lack of sound so potent it blackened the place with something richer than hate. — Carla H. Krueger, Sleeping with the Sun
The only difference between writers and people who don't write is that writers aren't afraid to display their demons. — Carla H. Krueger