To finish is sadness to a writer — a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn't really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done.

I would like to sit still for a while but I'm restless you know and sitting still is only an ideal like celibacy and complete cleanliness.

And their greed was for gold or God. They collected souls as they collected jewels.

Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world

So much there is to see, but our morning eyes describe a different world than do our afternoon eyes, and surely our wearied evening eyes can report only a weary evening world.

Best thing is to get the words down every day. And it is time to start now.

He never forgot anything but he never bothered to arrange his memories. -Hazel, Cannery Row