Critics are the eunuchs of literature. They stand by in envious awe while the whole man and his partner demonstrate the art of living.

I am happy to report that in the war between reality and romance, reality is not the stronger.

A plan is a real thing, and things projected are experienced. A plan once made and visualized becomes reality along with other realities—never to be destroyed but easily to be attacked.

I think of my life as a kind of music, not always good music but still having form and melody.

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?

What do I want in a doctor? Perhaps more than anything else-a friend with special knowledge.

Farewell has a sweet sound of reluctance. Good-by is short and final, a word with teeth sharp to bite through the string that ties past to the future.