Yes, I get dry spells. Sometimes I can't turn out a thing for three months. When one of those spells comes on I quit trying to work and go out and see something of life. You can't write a story that's got any life in it by sitting at a writing table and thinking. You've got to get out into the streets, into the crowds, talk with people, and feel the rush and throb of real life-that's the stimulant for a story writer.

He studied cities as women study their reflections.

He seemed to be made of sunshine and blood-red tissue and clear weather.

What is the world at its best but a little round field of the moving pictures with two walking together in it?

There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.

If a person has lived through war, poverty and love, he has lived a full life

But how is it now? All we get is orders; and the laws go out of the state. Them legislators set up there at Austin and don't do nothing but makes laws against kerosene oil and schoolbooks being brought into the state. I reckon they was afraid some man would go home some evening after work and light up and get an education and go to work and make laws to repeal aforesaid laws.