Where there is chance of gain, there is also chance of loss. Whenever one courts great happiness, one also risks malaise.

Joy and sadness come by turns.

Nobody but a Southerner knows the wrenching rinsing sadness of the cities of the North.

I don't like to be described as a Southern writer. The danger is, if you're described as a Southern writer, you might be thought of as someone who writes about a picturesque local scene like Uncle Tom's Cabin, Gone With the Wind, something like that.

Suppose you ask God for a miracle and God says yes, very well. How do you live the rest of your life?

They all think any minute I'm going to commit suicide. What a joke. The truth of course is the exact opposite: suicide is the only thing that keeps me alive. Whenever everything else fails, all I have to do is consider suicide and in two seconds I'm as cheerful as a nitwit. But if I could not kill myself -- ah then, I would. I can do without nembutal or murder mysteries but not without suicide.

If I had the choice of knowing the truth or searching for the truth, I'd take the search.