... in general, the Anglo-Irish do not make good dancers; they are too spritely and conscious; they are incapable of one kind of trance or of being seemingly impersonal. And, for the formal, pure dance they lack the formality: about their stylishness (for they have stylishness) there is something impromptu, slightly disorderly.

Mechanical difficulties with language are the outcome of internal difficulties with thought.

Often when I write I am trying to make words do the work of line and color. I have the painter's sensitivity to light. Much of my writing is verbal painting.

Meeting people unlike oneself does not enlarge one's outlook; it only confirms one's idea that one is unique.

But complex people are never certain that they are not crooks, never certain their passports are quite in order, and are, therefore, unnerved by the slightest thing.

Dialogue should convey a sense of spontaneity but eliminate the repetitiveness of real talk.

I became, and remain, my characters' close and intent watcher: their director, never. Their creator I cannot feel that I was, or am.