For time is the longest distance between two places.

I'm only really alive when I'm writing.

A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages.

I cannot write any sort of story unless there is at least one character in it for whom I have physical desire.

All creative work, all life in a sense, is a cri de coeur.

When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely, it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone.

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