We spend our lives talking about this mystery. Our life.
The horse is the only animal into which one can bang nails.
Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.
Words should be only the clothes, carefully custom-made to fit the thought.
The story I am writing exists, written in absolutely perfect fashion, some place, in the air. All I must do is find it, and copy it.
Posterity! Why should people be less stupid tomorrow than they are today?