She's very pretty but she's honey from the icebox, if you know what I mean. Cold sweets won't spread.

My face too blind, my mind too limited, my instincts too narrow. But this intensity, doesn't it mean anything?

I've discovered that rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, 'To hell with you.'

Live or die but don't poison everything.

You're all alone when you're a writer. Sometimes you just feel you need a humanity bath. Even a ride on the subway will do that. But it's much more interesting to talk about books. After all, that's what life used to be for writers: they talk books, politics, history, America. Nothing has replaced that.

Do we always, always to the point of misery, do a thing?

I am an American – Chicago born.