I don't believe in villains or heroes, only in right or wrong ways that individuals are taken, not by choice, but by necessity or by certain still uncomprehended influences in themselves, their circumstances and their antecedents.

I don't believe anyone ever suspects how completely unsure I am of my work and myself and what tortures of self-doubting the doubt of others has always given me.

The scene is memory and is therefore nonrealistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart.

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

The only unforgivable sin is deliberate cruelty.

Snatching the eternal out of the desperately fleeting is the great magic trick of human existence.

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