Rereading places you at the point where it has to go on, knowing it is as good as you can get it up to there. There is always juice somewhere.

He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on.

One cat just leads to another.

It was strange how easy being tired enough made it.

My attitude toward punctuation is that it ought to be as conventional as possible. The game of golf would lose a good deal if croquet mallets and billiard cues were allowed on the putting green. You ought to be able to show that you can do it a good deal better than anyone else with the regular tools before you have a license to bring in your own improvements.

I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one's own body.

America is the land of wide lawns and narrow minds.