The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous.

The actual writing is what you live for. The rest is something you have to get through in order to arrive at the point.

The more you reason the less you create.

You don't get rich, you don't often have much fun. Sometimes you get beaten up or shot at or tossed into the jail house. Once in a long while you get dead. Every other month you decide to give it up and find some sensible occupation while you can still walk without shaking your head. Then the door buzzer rings and you open the inner door to the waiting room and there stands a new face with a new problem, a new load of grief, and a small piece of money.

Great critics, of whom there are piteously few, build a home for the truth.

Down these mean streets a man must go who is neither tarnished nor afraid

Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off.