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.

My best girl is dead.

The natural habitat of the tongue is the left cheek.

Writing is very much like bricklaying. You learn to put one brick on top of another and spread the mortar so thick.

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

Young men have visions, old men have dreams.

Dying is no big deal. Living is the trick.