Luxury is the wolf at the door and its fangs are the vanities and conceits germinated by success. When an artist learns this, he knows where the danger is.
When I stop working the rest of the day is posthumous. I'm only really alive when I'm writing.
Like a cat on a hot tin roof.
I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip.
attempting to find in motion what was lost in space.
Bohemia has no banner. It survives by discretion.