I thought of the future, and spoke of the past.

Past certain ages or certain wisdoms it is very difficult to look with wonder; it is best done when one is a child; after that, and if you are lucky, you will find a bridge of childhood and walk across it.

That's all a writer has to write about - what he sees and hears and what not.

She took off her dark glasses and squinted at me. It was as though her eyes were shattered prisms, the dots of blue and gray and green like broken bits of sparkle.

Poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't the right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together.

I've never worked for a newspaper. I've had some very bad reviews in newspapers.

As long as you live, there's always something waiting; and even if it's bad, and you know it's bad, what can you do? You can't stop living.