Most writers are not quick-witted when they talk. Novelists, in particular, drag themselves around in society like gut-shot bears.

In the water I am beautiful.

All right - I'll tell you what you did for me: you went for happy, silly, beautiful walks with me.

I saw the destruction of Dresden. I saw the city before and then came out of an air-raid shelter and saw it afterward, and certainly one response was laughter. God knows, that's the soul seeking some relief.

Their imaginations were flywheels on the ramshackle machinery of the awful truth.

The primary benefit of practicing any art, whether well or badly, is that it enables one's soul to grow.

Everyone now knows how to find the meaning of life within himself.