Delay is natural to a writer. He is like a surfer-he bides his time, waits for the perfect wave on which to ride in. Delay is instinctive with him. He waits for the surge (of emotion? of strength? of courage?) that will carry him along.

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

When a man hangs from a tree it doesn't spell justice unless he helped write the law that hanged him.

The whole duty of a writer is to please and satisfy himself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one.

Life's meaning has always eluded me and I guess always will. But I love it just the same.

An editor is a person who knows more about writing than writers do but who has escaped the terrible desire to write.

His words span rivers and mountains, but his thoughts are still only six inches long.