If I can write everything out plainly, perhaps I will myself understand better what has happened.

There is within every human being a deep well of thinking over which a heavy iron lid is kept clamped.

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.

...she thought that something unexpressed in herself came forth and became a part of an unexpressed something in them.

You won’t arrive. It is an endless search.

It may be true of all relationships, not only between fathers and sons, but between men and women. Nothing seems fixed. Everything is always changing. We seem to have very little control over our emotional life.

There is this thing called life. We live it, not as we intend or wish, but as we are driven on by forces outside and inside ourselves.