It ain't fair that we have all the rough breaks!
All of a sudden it felt like people were peering over my shoulder, wondering what I would write next. I was blocked for four years.
He died violent and young and desperate, just like we all knew he'd die someday.
You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still lots of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows.
But Dally, heaters kill people! Ya' kill 'em with switchblades to, don'tcha?
I have no idea why I write. The old standards are: I like to express my feelings, stretch my imagination, earn money.