For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn.

Women have sat indoors all these millions of years, so that by this time the very walls are permeated by their creative force, which has, indeed, so overcharged the capacity of bricks and mortar that it must needs harness itself to pens and brushes and business and politics.

Literature is no one’s private ground, literature is common ground; let us trespass freely and fearlessly and find our own way for ourselves.

Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it.

The truth is, I often like women. I like their unconventionality. I like their completeness. I like their anonymity.

Marvelous are the innocent.

Use words that soak up life.