We fought so long against small things that we became small ourselves.

How thick the fog is. I can't see the road. All the people in the world could pass by and I would never know. I wish it was always that way. It's getting dark already. It will soon be night, thank goodness.

Writing is my vacation from living.

I spent a year in Professor Baker's famous class at Harvard. There, too, I learned some things that were useful to me-particularly what not to do. Not to take ten lines, for instance, to say something that can be said in one line.

We fought so long against small things that we became small ourselves.

Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.

Critics? I love every bone in their heads.