Find out what your hero or heroine wants, and when he or she wakes up in the morning, just follow him or her all day.

I’ve learned that by doing things, things get done.

It is a lie to write in such way as to be rewarded by fame offered you by some snobbish quasi-literary groups in the intellectual gazettes.

What is The Subconscious to every other man, in its creative aspect becomes, for writers, The Muse.

Death doesn't exist. It never did, it never will. But we've drawn so many pictures of it, so many years, trying to pin it down, comprehend it, we've got to thinking of it as an entity, strangely alive and greedy. All it is, however, is a stopped watch, a loss, an end, a darkness. Nothing.

How men envy and often hate these warm clocks, these wives, who know they will live forever. So what do we do? We men turn terribly mean, because we can't hold to the world or ourselves or anything. We are blind to continuity, all breaks down, falls, melts, stops, rots, or runs away. So, since we cannot shape Time, where does that leave men? Sleepless. Staring.

Do you ever read any of the books you burn?" He laughed. "That's against the law!" "Oh. Of course.