She was a little given to rehearsing things in her mind, and having imaginary triumphs over people who had upset her in one way and another.
I loved her like a rabbit loves a rattlesnake
You have to wait for your mind to catch up with whatever it is itโs working on; then you can write a novel.
Love, when you get fear in it, it's not love any more. It's hate.
You usually can tell when a writer is going down hill by the size of his liquor bill.
I write of the wish that comes true--for some reason, a terrifying thought.