He is altogether selfish, she thought in some surprise, the only man I have ever sat and talked to alone, and I am impatient; he is simply not very interesting.

We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.

So long as you write it away regularly nothing can really hurt you.

In the country of the story the writer is king.

All I could think of when I got a look at the place from the outside was what fun it would be to stand out there and watch it burn down.

It is only with the eyes open that a corporeal form returns, and assembles itself firmly around the hard core of sight.

She walked quickly around her one-room apartment. After more than four years in this one home she knew all its possibilities, how it could put on a sham appearance of warmth and welcome when she needed a place to hide in, how it stood over her in the night when she woke suddenly, how it could relax itself into a disagreeable unmade, badly-put-together state, mornings like this, anxious to drive her out and go back to sleep.