It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong.

Children drown, beautiful women are mangled in automobile accidents, cruise ships founder, and men die lingering deaths in mines and submarines, but you will find none of this in my accounts.

I believe that writing is an account of the powers of extrication.

Now working is terribly painful and I'm still having a fight with the booze. I've enlisted the help of a doctor but it's touch and go. A day for me; a day for the hootch.

Literature has been the salvation of the damned, literature has inspired and guided lovers, routed despair and can perhaps in this case save the world.

When the beginnings of self destruction enter the heart, it seems no bigger than a grain of sand.

Homesickness is nothing. Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time.