And it was about then, about that time, that I began to find life unsatisfactory as an explanation of itself and was forced to adopt the method of the artist of not explaining but putting the blocks together in some other way that seems more significant to him. Which is a rather fancy way of saying I started writing.

Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person.

Death is one moment, and life is so many of them.

Young, gifted, and destitute.

Only some radical change can divert the downward course of my spirit, some startling new place or people to arrest the drift, the drag.

For nowadays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura -- and so goodbye. . . .

I know I fib a good deal. After all, a woman's charm is fifty per cent illusion, but when a thing is important I tell the truth. - Blanche Scene II