women love with their imagination and men with their senses.
If broken hearts could kill, the earth would be as dead as the moon.
O God, let me write books! Please, God, let me write books!
The hardest thing for me is the sense of impermanence. All passes; nothing returns.
For me, the novel is experience illumined by imagination.
Nothingis so ungrateful as a rising generation; yet, if there is any faintest glimmer of light ahead of us in the present, itwas kindled by the intellectual fires that burned long before us.