I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really - one has to ask oneself - what dignity is there in that?

To see the best before I have properly begun would be somewhat premature.

I do not think I responded immediately, for it took me a moment or two to fully digest these words of Miss Kenton. Moreover, as you might appreciate, their implications were such as to provoke a certain degree of sorrow within me. Indeed- why should I not admit it? - at that moment, my heart was breaking.

There comes a point when you can more or less count the number of books you're going to write before you die.

What interests me is the surprising enormous extent to which most people accept the fate that's been given to them, and find some dignity.

I had been plunged into a different world. I found myself spending half my time answering weird questions on book tours in the Midwest. People would stand up and explain to me the situation in their office and ask me whether they should resign or not.

One is not struck by the truth until prompted quite accidentally by some external event.