A writer is like a bean plant - he has his little day, and then gets stringy.

It is by all odds the loftiest of cities. It even managed to reach the highest point in the sky at the lowest moment of the depression.

Advice from this elderly practitioner is to forget publishers and just roll a sheet of copy paper into your machine and get lost in your subject.

I discovered, though, that once having given a pig an enema there is no turning back, no chance of resuming one of life's more stereotyped roles.

Life's accumulation is more discouraging than life itself, when stirred up.

Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.

The world is full of people who have never, since childhood, met an open doorway with an open mind.