Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory.

I don't want realism. I want magic!

It is a terrible thing for an old woman to outlive her dogs.

I must endure & endure & still endure.

I have always been pushed by the negative. The apparent failure of a play sends me back to my typewriter that very night, before the reviews are out. I am more compelled to get back to work than if I had a success.

I'm tired and it's taking an increasing amount out of me, more than I have to give physically. And that's why I want to move to Sicily and buy that little farm and raise a flock of goats and geese. I find it peaceful ... and it would be a nice way to end life.

Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory.