And you know what it is? San Francisco a golden handcuff with the key thrown away.

The difficulty of course is that I like women. It is only wives I am in trouble with.

The writer is delegated to declare and to celebrate man's proven capacity for greatness of heart and spirit—for gallantry in defeat, for courage, compassion and love. In the endless war against weakness and despair, these are the bright rally flags of hope and of emulation. I hold that a writer who does not believe in the perfectibility of man has no dedication nor any membership in literature.

In literary criticism the critic has no choice but to make over the victim of his attention into something the size and shape of himself.

And, of course, people are interested only in themselves. If a story is not about the hearer he will not listen.

Don't you love Jesus?' Well, I thought an' I thought an' finally I says, 'No, I don't know nobody name' Jesus. I know a bunch of stories, but I only love people.

Rich, poor, Panhandle, Gulf, city, country, Texas is the obsession, the proper study, and the passionate possession of all Texans.