We must leave this terrifying place to-morrow and go searching for sunshine.

Isn't Hollywood a dump-in the human sense of the word. A hideous town, pointed up by the insulting gardens of its rich, full of the human spirit at a new low of debasement.

It's just because I love the past that I want this house to look back on its glamourous moment of youth and beauty, and I want its stairs to creak as if to the footsteps of women with hoop skirts and men in boots and spurs. But they've made it into a blondined, rouged-up old woman of sixty.

You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.

People living alone get used to loneliness.

Nobody ever became a writer just by wanting to be one.

I wish I could write. I get these ideas but I never seem to be able to put them in words.