Kenneth Hari does not paint portraits as they are but as he is. I feel he is hiding something from me. To board a train into his mind would give me a ride into dark adventure.

I don't want realism. I want magic!

No, truth is something desperate, an' she's got it. Believe me, it's something desperate, an' she's got it.

The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.

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

Perhaps the most vivid recollection of my youth is that of the local wheelmen, led by my father, stopping at our home to eat pone, sip mint juleps, and flog the field hands. This more than anything cultivated my life-long aversion to bicycles.

If I am no longer disturbed myself, I will deal less with disturbed people and with violent material. I don't regret having concerned myself with such people, because I think that most of us are disturbed.