Did you ever, in that wonderland wilderness of adolesence [sic] ever, quite unexpectedly, see something, a dusk sky, a wild bird, a landscape, so exquisite terror touched you at the bone? And you are afraid, terribly afraid the smallest movement, a leaf, say, turning in the wind, will shatter all? That is, I think, the way love is, or should be: one lives in beautiful terror.

If you sweep a house, and tend its fires and fill its stove, and there is love in you all the years you are doing this, then you and that house are married, that house is yours.

If you happen to capture my imagination for some reason and I decide to write about you and you don't like what I wrote about you, which is entirely possible, then yes, I'm a dangerous writer.

I've got something inside of me, peasantlike and stubborn, and I'm in it till the end of the race.

It's worth your life to order an omelette in most restaurants. You never know what you're going to get.

I live in Brooklyn. By choice. Those ignorant of its allures are entitled to wonder why.

Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.