Read your own obituary notice; they say you live longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.

I will not say nothing. I will defend my church and my religion when it is insulted and spit on.

I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.

Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character.

I am not likely to die of bashfulness but neither am I prepared to be crucified to attest the perfection of my art. I dislike to hear of any stray heroics on the prowl for me.

Does nobody understand?

[A writer is] a priest of eternal imagination, transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life.