Don’t think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity.

Only if the third necessary thing could be given us. Number one, as I said: quality of information. Number two: leisure to digest it. And number three: the right to carry out actions based on what we learn from the interaction of the first two.

I don't have a computer. A computer's a typewriter. I already have a typewriter.

And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it's like it's morning again and I'm starting the day over.

The one sure way I can dishonor myself is by worrying about my reputation.

There where hundreds of graves. There where hundreds of women. There were hundreds of daughters. There were hundreds of sons. And hundreds upon hundreds upon thousands of candles. The whole graveyard was one swarm of candleshine as if a population of fireflies had heard of a Grand Conglomeration and had flown here to settle in and flame upon the stones and light the brown faces and the dark eyes and the black hair.

Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.