A wine shop was open and I went in for some coffee. It smelled of early morning, of swept dust, spoons in coffee-glasses and the wet circles left by wine glasses.

All you need to do is write truly and not care about what the fate of it is.

I still need more healthy rest in order to work at my best. My health is the main capital I have and I want to administer it intelligently.

The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.

Fortunately I have never learned to take the good advice I give myself nor the counsel of my fears.

Prose is architecture, not interior decoration, and the Baroque is over.

He saw the girl watching him and he smiled at her. It was an old smile that he had been using for fifty years, ever since he first smiled.