Indolence and melancholy: Each generates the other. If one can speak of such feeble passions as generating anything.
My notion of a great novel is something like a five-hundred-page shaggy-dog story, with only the punch line omitted.
Jesus don't walk on water no more; his feet leak.
Nobody has so many friends that he can afford to lose one.
Most new books drop immediately into the oblivion they so richly deserve.
The artist's job? To be a miracle worker: make the blind see, the dull feel, the dead to live.