Every act of life, from the morning toothbrush to the friend at dinner, became an effort. I hated the night when I couldn't sleep and I hated the day because it went toward night.

Art isn't meaningless... It is in itself. It isn't in that it tries to make life less so.

Sometimes I think that idlers seem to be a special class for whom nothing can be planned, plead as one will with them - their only contribution to the human family is to warm a seat at the common table.

All things come to him who mates.

All good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath.

Well, I can't describe her exactly-except to say that she was beautiful. She was-tremendously alive.

A writer wastes nothing.