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.

I did not care what it was all about. All I wanted to know was how to live in it. Maybe if you found out how to live in it you learned from that what is was all about.

The only kind of writing is rewriting.

Religion is like an ice cold whiskey on a hot day.

There is no such thing as great writing - there is only great re-writing!

Optimism can keep a fool from accepting failure.

How did you go bankrupt?" Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.