Perhaps the comparison is closer to the Chinese cook who leaves hardly any part of a duck unserved.

As the end of the what is called the 'sexual life' the only love which has lasted is the love which has everything, every disappointment, every failure and every betrayal, which has accepted even the sad fact that in the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship.

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

When we are not sure, we are alive.

A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.

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.

He felt the loyalty we feel to unhappiness - the sense that is where we really belong.