I knew that nobody but a luckless man could ever need a doctor in the face of a cyclone.

The end of wisdom is to dream high enough to lose the dream in the seeking of it.

We could live like counts. ... If all that money is out there, I might as well hack a little on the side and put the novel off.

So the only environment the artist needs is whatever peace, whatever solitude, and whatever pleasure he can get at not too high a cost. All the wrong environment will do is run his blood pressure up; he will spend more time being frustrated or outraged. My own experience has been that the tools I need for my trade are paper, tobacco, food, and a little whiskey.

The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself

She wouldn't say what we both knew. 'The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the day when you knew it is true. Why won't you say it, even to yourself?' She will not say it.

It feels almost soft, like something to be caressed. Only gold feels that way.