Writing is so difficult that I feel that writers, having had their hell on earth, will escape all punishment hereafter.

At fourteen you don't need sickness or death for tragedy.

The West is color. Its colors are animal rather than vegetable, the colors of earth and sunlight and ripeness.

Only a fool would refuse to enter a fool's paradise when that's the only paradise he'll ever have a chance to enter.

A religious awakening which does not awaken the sleeper to love has roused him in vain.

The conversation of two people remembering, if the memory is enjoyable to both, rocks on like music or lovemaking. There is a rhythm and a predictability to it that each anticipates and relishes.

I've done more harm by the falseness of trying to please than by the honesty of trying to hurt.