Dying is no big deal. Living is the trick.

Dying is no big deal. Living is the trick.

Now it is done. Now the story ends. And there is no way to tell it. The art of fiction is dead. Reality has strangled invention.

I have known writers who paid no damned attention whatever to the rules of grammar and rhetoric and somehow made the language behave for them.

Ninety feet between the bases is the nearest thing to perfection that man has yet achieved.

I like to get where the cabbage is cooking and catch the scents.

In entertainment value, the Democratic clambake usually lays it over the Republican conclave like ice cream over parsnips.