To be alive is a fine thing. It is the finest thing in the world, though hazardous. It is a unique thing. It happens only once in a lifetime. To be alive, to know consciously that you are alive, and to relish that knowledge -- this is a kind of magic. Or it may be a kind of madness, exhilarating but harmless.

Books should be cherished, like children, books are for the next generation, like children, like history.

But almost any place is Baghdad if you don't know what will happen in it.

Writing, to be memorable, must be done in a state of impassioned serenity.

writers of novels are so busy being solitary that they haven't time to meet one another. But then, a writer learns nothing from a writer, conversationally. If a writer has anything witty, profound or quotable to say he doesn't say it. He's no fool. He writes it.

One can summon courage and fortitude to face tragedy; irritations and frustrations are a cloud of mosquitoes that nip and sting and drive one frantic.

People permit life to slide past them like a deft pickpocket, their purse-not yet missed and now too late-in his hand.