There is no feeling to be compared with the feeling of having written and finished a story.

The great thing to remember is we can do whatever we wish to do provided our wish is strong enough.

It is strange that there are times when I feel the stars are not at all solemn: they are secretly gay.

Ach, Tchekov! Why are you dead? Why can’t I talk to you in a big darkish room at late evening—where the light is green from the waving trees outside? I’d like to write a series of Heavens: that would be one.

If you wish to live, you must first attend your own funeral.

I am poor - obscure - just eighteen years of age - with a rapacious appetite for everything and principles as light as my purse.

Oh, impossible. Fancy cream puffs so soon after breakfast. The very idea made one shudder. All the same, two minutes later Jose and Laura were licking their fingers with that absorbed inward look that only comes from whipped cream.