The civilization of one epoch becomes the manure of the next.

The shock, for an intelligent writer, of discovering for the first time that there are people younger than himself who think him stupid is severe.

As repressed sadists are supposed to become policemen or butchers so those with an irrational fear of life become publishers.

Our memories are card indexes consulted and then returned in disorder by authorities whom we do not control.

Hemingway is great in that alone of living writers he has saturated his work with the memory of physical pleasure, with sunshine and salt water, with food, wine and making love and the remorse which is the shadow of that sun.

The man who is master of his passions is Reason's slave.

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.