and our few good times will be rare because we have the critical sense and are not easy to fool with laughter

Joan of Arc had style. Jesus had style.

Angels, we have grown apart.

When I begin to doubt my ability to work the word, I simply read another writer and know I have nothing to worry about. My contest is only with myself, to do it right, with power, and force, and delight, and gamble.

I would be married, but I'd have no wife, I would be married to a single life.

Potential," I said, "doesn't mean a thing. You've got to do it. Almost every baby in a crib has more potential than I have.

writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers.