My old friend looked at me with a new respect. He was discovering in me a capacity for hypocrisy that he had never credited me with before.

Henry Miller may write about revelers self-woven into a human hooked rug, because his ecstasy is solemn.

No ascetic can be considered reliably sane.

I had an attack of the gout two days before pulling out, and I went limping off to the war instead of coming limping back from it.

There is a healthy American newspaper tradition of not taking yourself seriously It is the story you must take that way... And if you do take yourself seriously, according to this sound convention, you are supposed to do your best not to let anyone else know about it. (Like bed-wetting.)

The only way to write is well and how you do it is your own damn business.

I take a grave view of the press. It is the weak slat under the bed of democracy