Crushed to earth and rising again is an author's gymnastic. Once he fails to struggle to his feet and grab his pen, he will contemplate a fact he should never permit himself to face: that in all probability books have been written, are being written, will be written, better than anything he has done, is doing, or will do.

I loathe all this blind rushing pell-mell into a struggle arranged by the mighty minority and paid for with the lives of young men who are drugged on trumped-up ideals.

There is no adequate definition for creative writing, any more than it is possible to describe pain or flavor or color.

Life owes me a living worth living. Yes, Eden regarded life as her debtor, she its relentless paymaster.

Nervous hands as if the fingers were dripping from them like icicles.

The maimed bodies aren't the worst. That's the easy way to hate war. The safe way. I - hate it just as much for the maimed souls that stay at home.

Some people think they are worth a lot of money just because they have it.