All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you. Especially do all stories of monogamy end in death, and your man who is monogamous while he often lives most happily, dies in the most lonely fashion.

I was a little drunk. Not drunk in any positive sense but just enough to be careless.

What a writer has to do is write what hasn't been written before or beat dead men at what they have done.

His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred.

When you start to live outside yourself, it's all dangerous.

But I think the Great DiMaggio would be proud of me today.

The most beautiful fighting machine I have ever seen