I've read Proust and Stendhal. That keeps you in your place.

Marriage? It's like asparagus eaten with vinaigrette or hollandaise, a matter of taste but of no importance.

It would be bad form for me to describe people I don't know and don't understand.

I've often found myself preferring second-rate people to supposedly superior people, simply and solely because of their uncontrollable tendency to bang themselves against the sides of life's vast lampshade like fireflies or moths.

Art must take reality by surprise. It takes those moments which are for us merely a moment, plus a moment, plus another moment, and arbitrarily transforms them into a special series of moments held together by a major emotion.

Writing is a question of finding a certain rhythm. I compare it to the rhythms of jazz. Much of the time life is a sort of rhythmic progression of three characters. If one tells oneself that life is like that, one feels it less arbitrary.

What you call types of mind are only mental ages.