Imagination grows by exercise.

I never met an author who admitted that people did not buy his book because it was dull.

You see, money to you means freedom; to me it means bondage.

She had no mercy. He looked at her neck and thought how he would like to jab it with the knife he had for his muffin. He knew enough anatomy to make pretty certain of getting the carotid artery. And at the same time he wanted to cover her pale, thin face with kisses.

We do not write as we want, but as we can.

A good story is obviously a difficult thing to invent, but its difficulty is a poor reason for despising it.

I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books they write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art.