The candle aimed its spark of light at heaven, like an artist who consumes himself to become divine.

All great and precious things are lonely.

A good writer always works at the impossible.

The discipline of the written word punishes both stupidity and dishonesty.

I need a dog pretty badly. I dreamed of dogs last night. They sat in a circle and looked at me and I wanted all of them.

In the streets of New York between seven and nine in the morning you will see the slow procession of dog and downer proceeding from street to tree to hydrant to trash basket. They are apartment dogs. They are taken out twice a day, and, while it is a cliché, it is truly amazing how owner and dog resemble each other. They grow to walk alike and have the same set of head.

It has always been my private conviction that any man who puts his intelligence up against a fish and loses had it coming.