It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.

I suspect that in our loathing of totalitarianism, there is infused a good deal of admiration for its efficiency.

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

It is self-evident that St. Louis affected me more deeply than any other environment has ever done. I feel that there is something in having passed one's childhood beside the big river, which is incommunicable to those people who have not. I consider myself fortunate to have been born here, rather than in Boston, or New York, or London.

The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.

The dripping blood our only drink, The bloody flesh our only food: In spite of which we like to think That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

One starts an action simply because one must do something.