I recognize limitations in the sense that I've read Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky and Shakespeare . . . Aside from that I don't think of limiting myself.

Life has confirmed for me the thoughts and impressions I had when I was 18, as if it was all intuition.

Love lasts about seven years. That's how long it takes for the cells of the body to totally replace themselves.

If you don't have imagination you're lost. But it's a virtue that's becoming increasingly rare, especially in its higher form: spontaneity. Mad, happy spontaneity.

The happiness of others is never bearable for very long.

pity is an agreeable sentiment, uplifting like military music.

I've tried very hard and I've never found any resemblance between the people I know and the people in my novels.