New York Is The Only Real City-city.

But I'm Not A Saint Yet. I'm An Alcoholic. I'm A Drug Addict. I'm Homosexual. I'm A Genius.

I Will Say Only That All A Writer Has To Work With Is The Material He Has Gathered As The Result Of His Own Endeavor And Observations, And He Cannot Be Denied The Right To Use It. Condemn, But Not Deny.

I Don't Care What Anybody Says About Me As Long As It Isn't True.

It Snowed All Week. Wheels And Footsteps Moved Soundlessly On The Street, As If The Business Of Living Continued Secretly Behind A Pale But Impenetrable Curtain. In The Falling Quiet There Was No Sky Or Earth, Only Snow Lifting In The Wind, Frosting The Window Glass, Chilling The Rooms, Deadening And Hushing The City. At All Hours It Was Necessary To Keep A Lamp Lighted, And Mrs. Miller Lost Track Of The Days: Friday Was No Different From Saturday And On Sunday She Went To The Grocery: Closed, Of Course.

But I Know What I Like.' She Smiled, And Et The Cat Drop To The Floor. 'it's Like Tiffany's,'she Said. 'not That I Give A Hoot About Jewellery. Diamonds, Yes. But It's Tacky To Wear Diamonds Before You're Forty; And Even That's Risky.