How can a man learn navigation Where there's no rudder?

If we could wake each morning with no memory of living before we went to sleep, we might arrive at a faultless day.

My trouble is I'm the sort of writer who only finds out what he's getting at by the time he's got to the end of it.

An artist's sensitivity to criticism is, at least in part, an effort to keep unimpaired the zest, or confidence, or arrogance, which he needs to make creation possible; or an instinct to climb through his problems in his own way as he should, and must.

What, after all,is a halo? It's only one more thing to keep clean.

Indulgences, not fulfillment, is what the world Permits us.

How can a man learn navigation Where there's no rudder?