Had I to give advice to writers (and I do not think they need it, because everyone has to find out things for himself), I would tell them simply this; I would ask them to tamper as little as they can with their own work. I do not think tinkering does any good. The moment comes when one has found out what one can do - when one has found one's natural voice, one's rhythm. Then I do not think that slight emendations should prove useful.

We are as ignorant of the meaning of the dragon as we are of the meaning of the universe.

I never reread what I've written. I'm far too afraid to feel ashamed of what I've done.

Besides, rereading, not reading, is what counts.

Censorship is the mother of metaphor.

Nothing is built on stone; all is built on sand, but we must build as if the sand were stone.

I wonder if I have woven through dreams the sexual strife. I don't think so. But after all, my business is to weave dreams. I suppose I may be allowed to choose the material.