Charles Bukowski - The word (from "Bone Palace Ballet") lyrics

the word has no legs or eyes, has no mouth, has no arms, has no intestines and often no heart, or very little. you can't ask the words to light a cigarette although it will help you enjoy your wine. and you can't force the word to do anything it doesn't want to do. you can't overwork it. and you can't awaken it when it decides to sleep. the word will treat you well at times, depending upon what you ask it to do. other times, it will treat you badly no matter what you ask it to do. the word comes and goes. sometimes you must wait a very long time for it. sometimes it never comes back. sometimes writers k** themselves when the word leaves. other writers will pretend that it is still there even though the word is dead and buried. many famous writers do this. and many less-famous who call themselves writers. the word is not for everybody. and for most, it's there just for a very short time. the word is one of the most powerful miracles in existence, it can enlighten or destroy minds, nations, cultures. the word is dangerous and beautiful. if it arrives for you, you will know it and you will be the luckiest of humans. nothing else will matter and everything else will matter. you will be the center of the sun, you will be laughing through the centuries, you will have it, your fingers your guts will have it, you will be, for as long as it lasts, a god-damn writer doing the possible impossible, getting it down, getting it down, getting it down.