For A Pure Sense Of Being Tumultuously

I Think I Write Or Publish As Much As I Do Because I Can Bear Being Without A Book To Work On.

Stop Worrying About Growing Old. And Think About Growing Up.

Everybody Has A Hard Job. All Real Work Is Hard. My Work Happened Also To Be Undoable. Morning After Morning For 50 Years, I Faced The Next Page Defenseless And Unprepared. Writing For Me Was A Feat Of Self-preservation. If I Did Not Do It, I Would Die. So I Did It. Obstinacy, Not Talent, Saved My Life.

Nothing Bad Can Happen To A Writer. Everything Is Material.

There Were Many Hours When I Never Quite Know How I'd Gotten There Or Why I Stayed.