Food Imaginatively And Lovingly Prepared, And Eaten

I Have Found That Each Of My Books Has Developed Out Of Something I Have Written In A Previous Book. Some Thought Evidently Unfinished.

When A Wave Of Love Takes Over A Human Being... Such An Exaltation Takes Him That He Knows He Has Put His Finger On The Pulse Of The Great Secret And The Great Answer.

Personal Publicity Is Apt To Be Dangerous To Any Writer's Integrity; For The Moment He Begins To Fancy Himself As Quite A Person, A Taint Creeps Into His Work.

Magic Birds Were Dancing In The Mystic Marsh. The Grass Swayed With Them, And The Shallow Waters, And The Earth Fluttered Under Them. The Earth Was Dancing With The Cranes, And The Low Sun, And The Wind And Sky.

Hemingway, Damn His Soul, Makes Everything He Writes Terrifically Exciting (and Incidentally Makes All Us Second-raters Seem Positively Adolescent) By The Seemingly Simple Expedient Of The Iceberg Principle - Three-fourths Of The Substance Under The Surface. He Comes Closer That Way To Retaining The Magic Of The Original, Unexpressed Idea Or Emotion, Which Is Always More Stirring Than Any Words. But Just Try And Do It!