I think it is vanity to want to put into a story anything but the story itself.

Now that I think about it, it seems to me that’s what Idiocy is: the ability to be enthusiastic all the time about anything you like, so that a drawing on the wall does not have to be diminished by the memory of the frescoes of Giotto in Padua.

Happy was she who could believe without seeing, who was at one with the duration and continuity of life.

I have never described this to you before, not so much, I don't think, from lack of truthfulness as that, just naturally, one is not going to explain to people at large that from time to time one vomits up a small rabbit.

We no longer believe because it is absurd: it is absurd because we must believe.

A short story relies on those values that make poetry and jazz what they are: tension, rhythms, inner beat, into unforeseen within foreseen parameters

The mysterious does not spell itself out in capital letters, as many writers believe, but is always between, an interstice.