[Completely bored by a country weekend, wiring to a friend:] For heaven's sake, rush me a loaf of bread, enclosing saw and file.

I might repeat to myself . . . a list of quotations from minds profound - if I can remember any of the damn things.

It takes me six months to do a story. I think it out and then write it sentence by sentence - no first draft. I can't write five words but that I change seven.

All I need is room enough to lay a hat and a few friends.

What writes worse than a Theodore Dreiser? ... Two Theodore Dreisers.

Benchley and I had an office in the old Life magazine that was so tiny, if it were an inch smaller it would have been adultery.

Constant use had not worn ragged the fabric of their friendship.