I'd never been published when I was young.

How to know, oh how to know! All is relative ease and facility in orthodoxy, yet how can it be denied that good is in itself undeniable? Absolutes are the most uncertain of all formulations, while the uncertainties are the most real.

A reader is not supposed to be aware that someone's written the story. He's supposed to be completely immersed, submerged in the environment.

An inch of foreknowledge is worth ten miles of after-thought.

What is an evil man? The man is evil who coerces obedience to his private ends, destroys beauty, produces pain, extinguishes life.

I just wrote what I felt like writing since they seemed to sell.

Happiness is fugitive; dissatisfaction and boredom are real.