I Do Like Italian Graves; They Look

First Love, With Its Frantic Haughty Imagination, Swings Its Object Clear Of The Everyday, Over The Rut Of Living, Making Him All Looks, Silences, Gestures, Attitudes, A Burning Phrase With No Context.

The Importance To The Writer Of First Writing Must Be Out Of All Proportion Of The Actual Value Of What Is Written.

Mechanical Difficulties With Language Are The Outcome Of Internal Difficulties With Thought.

The Short Story Is At An Advantage Over The Novel, And Can Claim Its Nearer Kinship To Poetry, Because It Must Be More Concentrated, Can Be More Visionary, And Is Not Weighed Down (as The Novel Is Bound To Be) By Facts, Explanation, Or Analysis. I Do Not Mean To Say That The Short Story Is By Any Means Exempt From The Laws Of Narrative: It Must Observe Them, But On Its Own Terms.

Silence Sat In The Taxi, As Though A Stranger Had Got In.