Language is a mixture of statement and evocation.

We desert those who desert us; we cannot afford to suffer; we must live how we can.

We are minor in everything but our passions.

Writers do not find subjects; subjects find them.

Sacrificers ... are not the ones to pity. The ones to pity are those that they sacrifice. Oh, the sacrificers, they get it both ways. A person knows themselves that they're able to do without.

Temperamentally, the writer exists on happenings, on contacts, conflicts, action and reaction, speed, pressure, tension. Were he acontemplative purely, he would not write.

nothing is more restful than conformity.