Our age not only does not have a very sharp eye for the almost imperceptible intrusions of grace, it no longer has much feeling for the nature of the violences which precede and follow them.

When she told a story, she rolled her eyes and waved her head and was very dramatic.

I can, with one eye squinted, take it all as a blessing.

Not-writing is a good deal worse than writing.

You get a real person down there and his talking will take care of itself.

People without hope not only don’t write novels, but what is more to the point, they don’t read them. They don’t take long looks at anything, because they lack the courage. The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience, and the novel, of course, is a way to have experience.

To expect too much is to have a sentimental view of life and this is a softness that ends in bitterness.