Just as, with the radio, there are certain things that you become fond of,and you welcome them and resent the new things

All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.

All stories, if continued far enough, end in death.

The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.

The rain will stop, the night will end, the hurt will fade. Hope is never so lost that it can't be found.

You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

Never write about a place until you're away from it, because that gives you perspective