How Slowly One Comes To Understand Anything!

Have The Courage To Write Whatever Your Dream Is For Yourself.

Excellence Costs A Great Deal.

Words Are My Passion / And Out Of Them And Me / I Would Create Beauty.

This Suspension Of One's Own Reality, This Being Entirely Alone In A Strange City (at Times I Wondered If I Had Lost The Power Of Speech) Is An Enriching State For A Writer. Then The Written Word ... Takes On An Intensity Of Its Own. Nothing Gets Exteriorized Or Dissipated; All Is Concentrated Within.

Is It Perhaps The One Necessity Of Love, That It Be Needed? And The One Great Human Tragedy That It So Rarely Is?