He was just a coward and that was the worst luck any many could have.

Show the readers everything, tell them nothing.

And bed, he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten, he thought. I never knew how easy it was. And what beat you, the thought.

I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eighths of it underwater for every part that shows.

where a man feels at home, outside of where he’s born, is where he’s meant to go.

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

It seemed out of place to think of consequences during the fiesta.