I find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.

What is so real as the cry of a child?

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

If I have a dry spell ... I wait and live harder, eyes, ears, and heart open, and when the productive time comes, it is that much richer.

I think I may well be a Jew.

I hate Technicolor. Everybody in a Technicolor movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid costume in each new scene and to stand around like a clotheshorse with a lot of very green trees or very yellow wheat or very blue ocean rolling away for miles and miles in every direction.

She looks like a woman who has found it ridiculous to commit herself to a single emotional stance in anything, but must always ride high heavy irony.