He pointed toward the silhouettes on the side of the [bathrooms] instead--black cutout man, black cutout woman. The man had his legs apart, the woman had hers together. Pretty much the story of the human race in sign language.

First comes smiles, then lies. Last is gunfire.-Roland Deschain, of Gilead

I don't spend the day writing. I'll maybe write fresh copy for two hours, and then I'll go back and revise some of it and print what I like and then turn it off.

The poets continually and sometimes wilfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer.

Bird and bear and hare and fish, give my love her fondest wish.

You might question a winkle - a feeling that came to you right out of the blue - but you didn’t question knowing.

I understand from my own work that haste makes waste. But I also understand that ... the creative spark dims, and then death puts it out. William Shakespeare, for instance, hasn’t produced a new play for 400 years. That, my friends, is a long dry spell.