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.

The best writing is certainly when you are in love

Any man who eats dessert is not drinking enough.

Wars are caused by undefended wealth.

And you treat me wonderfully and keep all your promises.

Write hard and clear about what hurts.

Rush, that most exciting perversion of life, the necessity of accomplishing something in less time than should be truly allowed for its doing.