Certainly the people who are close to me are happier. They feel freer.
Disaster is private, in its way, as love is.
It's absolutely fatal to your writing to think about how your work will be received. It's a betrayal of whatever talent you have.
I couldn't be sufficiently interested in human beings to be a writer if I had contempt for human beings.
The facts are always less than what really happened.
The creative act is not pure. History evidences it. Sociology extracts it. The writer loses Eden, writes to be read and comes to realize that he is answerable.