It was a cold day but the sun was out and the trees were like great bonfires against gray distant fields and hills.

The thing of course, is to make yourself alive. Most people remain all of their lives in a stupor.

It is no use. I find it impossible to work with security staring me in the face.

If people did not want their stories told, it would be better for them to keep away from me.

I have seldom written a story, long or short, that I did not have to write and rewrite. There are single stories of mine that have taken me ten or twelve years to get written.

The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men.

You must try to forget all you have learned,” said the old man. “You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.