There is a mystery in all great writing and that mystery does not dissect out. It continues and is always valid.

Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.

There can be no great literature in America until her writers have learned to trust her implicitly and love her devoutly.

Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now.

He knew he would not be afraid. Even if he ever was afraid he knew that he could do it anyway.

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.

I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, "Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.