There is no monster more destructive than the inventive mind that has outstripped philosophy.

It was a perfect spring afternoon, and the air was filled with vague, roving scents, as if the earth exhaled the sweetness of hidden flowers.

the great novels have marched with the years. They are the contemporaries of time.

As far back as I remember, long before I could write, I had played at making stories. But not until I was seven or more, did I begin to pray every night, "O God, let me write books! Please, God, let me write books!"

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward.

... in the nineteen-thirties ... the most casual reader of murder mysteries could infallibly detect the villain, as soon as there entered a character who had recently washed his neck and did not commit mayhem on the English language.

I revolted from sentimentality, less because it was false than because it was cruel.