I write because I've always written, can't stop. I am a writing animal. The way a silk worm is a silk-producing animal.

I stood looking down out of the window. The street seemed miles down. Suddenly I felt as if I'd flung myself out of the window. I could see myself lying on the pavement. Then I seemed to be standing by the body on the pavement. I was two people. Blood and brains were scattered everywhere. I knelt down and began licking up the blood and brains

I am increasingly afflicted by vertigo where words mean nothing

Pleasure resorts are like film stars and royalty... embarrassed by the figures they cut in the fantasies of people who have never met them.

What is a hero without love for mankind.

What matters most is that we learn from living.

The art of living in a small town is one of the most difficult to acquire.