Sometimes I don't know whether I'm real or whether I'm a character in one of my novels.

It is not necessarily poverty of spirit that makes a woman surround herself with life - it can be a superabundance of interest.

I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

I'm inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores.

I've been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library.

When he buys his ties he has to ask if gin will make them run.