Edison held 1,093 patents by the time he died, so I figure he must know what he's talking about. As writers, we often feel like what we've got in our heads is Grandma's Attic - full of all kinds of junk, most of it worthless and weird (six bins of rubber bands, anyone?), but with the occasional priceless diamond ring hidden deep in a corner.
What Edison reminds us is that the quality of the junk isn't nearly as important as what you do with it. With the right bit of imagination, a little ingenuity, and some hard work, even the strangest pile of junk can be made beautiful.
Happy writing, everyone!