Auto racing, bull fighting, and mountain climbing are the only real sports... all the others are games.

I can't stand it to think my life is going so fast and I'm not really living it.

To have come on all this new world of writing, with time to read in a city like Paris where there was a way of living well and working, no matter how poor you were, was like having a great treasure given to you.

Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don’t know the ten-dollar words. I know them all right. But there are older and simpler and better words, and those are the ones I use.

Write hard and clear about what hurts.

[Never give up hope. Never give in to pessimism. Never despair.] No horse named Morbid ever won a race!

Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.