Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays.

Reporting the extreme things as if they were the average things will start you on the art of fiction.

She was a dark, unenduring little flower - yet he thought he detected in her some quality of spiritual reticence, of strength drawn from her passive acceptance of all things. In this he was mistaken.

A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.

Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me.

I was in love with a whirlwind, so when the girl threw me over, I went home and finished my novel.

There was never a good biography of a good novelist. There couldn't be. He is too many people if he's any good.