I'm trying to earn a living in the way that is most enjoyable to me. I love the world of literature, and I hope to support myself in it.

It is true that our skin is sort of more or less the same shade. But is it true that our skin color makes us a distinctive race? No.

It was hollow, my triumph, I could feel that, but I held on to it just the same.

I like cooking, but I think someone else ought to do the dishes.

When once I got to America I fell in love with hippie culture, and I've always wanted to live in the country and grow organic vegetables.

I'm trying to earn a living in the way that is most enjoyable to me. I love the world of literature, and I hope to support myself in it.

Why is a picture of something real eventually more exciting than the thing itself?