The minute you or anybody else knows what you are you are not it, you are what you or anybody else knows you are and as everything in living is made up of finding out what you are it is extraordinarily difficult really not to know what you are and yet to be that thing.

... there is no point in being realistic about here and now, no use at all not any, and so it is not the nineteenth but the twentieth century, there is no realism now, life is not real it is not earnest, it is strange which is an entirely different matter.

If the communication is perfect, the words have life, and that is all there is to good writing, putting down on the paper words which dance and weep and make love and fight and kiss and perform miracles.

there is no pleasure so sweet as the pleasure of spending money but the pleasure of writing is longer. There is no denying that.

Ladies there is no neutral position for us to assume.

Love: the skillful audacity required to share an inner life.

Remarks aren't literature.