There is no rule on how to write.

Not the why but the what.

The real reason for not committing suicide is because you always know how swell life gets again after the hell is over.

But in the night he woke and held her tight as though she were all of life and it was being taken from him. He held her feeling she was all of life there was and it was true.

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

I'm always reading books-as many as there are. I ration myself on them so that I'll always be in supply.

The only place where you could see life and death, i. e., violent death now that the wars were over, was in the bull ring and I wanted very much to go to Spain where I could study it. I was trying to learn to write, commencing with the simplest things, and one of the simplest things of all and the most fundamental is violent death.