For an artist to think in terms of success is like a priest trying to think in terms of success.

Yesterday I went home with him and we did the usual things. I haven't the nerve to put them down, but I'd like to, because now when I'm writing it's already tomorrow and I'm afraid of getting to the end of yesterday. As long as I go on writing, yesterday is today and we are still together

A writer doesn't write for his readers, does he? Yet he has to take elementary precautions all the same, to make them comfortable.

Christmas it seems to me is a necessary festival; we require a season when we can regret all the flaws in our human relationships: it is the feast of failure, sad but consoling.

I'm tired and I'm sick to death of being without you.

Fun... human nature... does no one any harm... Regular as clockwork the old excuses came back into the alert, sad and dissatisfied brain--nothing ever matched the deep excitement of the regular desire. Men always failed you when it came to the act. She might just as well have been to the pictures.

I've caught belief like a disease. I've fallen into belief like I fell in love.