American bankers believe in the personal touch; the teller conveys a sense that he happens to be there accidentally and he is overjoyed at the lucky chance of the encounter.

Point me out the happy man and I will point you out either egotism, selfishness, evil - or else an absolute ignorance.

What have we all got to expect that we allow ourselves to be so lined with disappointment?

All good novelists have bad memories. What you remember comes out as journalism; what you forget goes into the compost of the imagination.

My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action -- even an opinion is a kind of action.

One has no talent. I have no talent. It's just a question of working, of being willing to put in the time.

Oh well, perhaps when you're my age you'll know the heart is an untrustworthy beast.The mind too,but it doesn't talk about love.