A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream.

My, my. A body does get around.

In writing, you must kill all your darlings.

I suppose that people, using themselves and each other so much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to a still tongue.

When I was little there was a picture in one of our books, a dark place into which a single weak ray of light came slanting upon two faces lifted out of the shadow.

A writer is trying to create believable people in credible moving situations in the most moving way he can.

...I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire...I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.