There is no trick to it. If you like to write and want to write, you write, no matter where you are or what else you are doing or whether anyone pays any heed.

I have just been refining the room in which I sit, yet I sometimes doubt that a writer should refine or improve his workroom by so much as a dictionary: one thing leads to another and the first thing you know he has a stuffed chair and is fast asleep in it.

Whatever else an American believes or disbelieves about himself, he is absolutely sure he has a sense of humor.

Familiarity is the thing-the sense of belonging. It grants exemption from all evil, all shabbiness.

"Have you ever found anything that gives you relief?" "Yes. A drink."

When you consider that there are a thousand ways to express even the simplest idea, it is no wonder writers are under a great strain. Writers care greatly how a thing is said - it makes all the difference. So they are constantly faced with too many choices and must make too many decisions.

Be obscure clearly! Be wild of tongue in a way we can understand.