Dark hair fell in a sweep over his forehead. He looked like a man who would write vers libre, as indeed he did.

One of the Georges - I forget which - once said that a certain number of hours´ sleep each night - I cannot recall at the moment how many - made a man something which for the time being has slipped my memory.

In all crises of human affairs there are two broad courses open to a man. He can stay where he is or he can go elsewhere.

He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.

A little bit added to what you've already got gives you a little bit more.

I love writing. I never feel really comfortable unless I am either actually writing or have a story going. I could not stop writing.

What you want, my lad, and what you're going to get are two very different things.