Most people don't find their creativity. There are more unsung geniuses that don't even know they have great talent.

I don't mean I'd mind being rich and famous. That's very much on my schedule and someday I'll try to get around to it.

I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods.

I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.

...there was a blond misty boy sitting beside me, and he looked at me, and I at him, and we were not strangers: our hands moved towards each other to embrace. I never heard his voice, for we did not speak; it is a shame, I should so like the memory of it. Loneliness, like fever, thrives on night, but there with him light broke, breaking in the trees like birdsong, and when sunrise came, he loosened his fingers from mine, and walked away, that misty boy, my friend.

The way his plump hand clutched at her hip seemed somehow improper; not morally, aesthetically.

I thought that Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman. I thought so right up to the moment that I cut his throat.