Curiously, Neither God Nor The Devil May

Fortune Has Dealt With Me Rather Too Well. I Have Known Little Struggle, Not Much Poverty, Many Generosities. Now And Then I Have, For My Books Or Myself, Been Somewhat Warmly Denounced -- There Was One Good Pastor In California Who Upon Reading My Elmer Gantry Desired To Lead A Mob And Lynch Me, While Another Holy Man In The State Of Maine Wondered If There Was No Respectable And Righteous Way Of Putting Me In Jail.

Think How Much Better It Is To Criticize Conventional Customs If You Yourself Live Up To Them, Scrupulously.

In Other Countries, Art And Literature Are Left To A Lot Of Shabby Bums Living In Attics And Feeding On Booze And Spaghetti, But In America The Successful Writer Or Picture-painter Is Indistinguishable From Any Other Decent Businessman.

It Is Impossible To Discourage The Real Writers - They Don't Give A Damn What You Say, They're Going To Write.

I Have For Myself No Conceivable Complaint To Make, And Yet For American Literature In General, And Its Standing In A Country Where Industrialism And Finance And Science Flourish And The Only Arts That Are Vital And Respected Are Architecture And The Film, I Have A Considerable Complaint.