Stealing A Man's Wife, That's Nothing, But

They Threw Me Off The Haytruck About Noon.

I Make No Conscious Effort To Be Tough, Or Hard-boiled, Or Grim, Or Any Of The Things I Am Usually Called. I Merely Try To Write As The Character Would Write, And I Never Forget That The Average Man, From The Fields, The Streets, The Bars, The Offices And Even The Gutters Of His Country, Has Acquired A Vividness Of Speech That Goes Beyond Anything I Could Invent, And That If I Stick To This Heritage, This Logos Of The American Countryside, I Shall Attain A Maximum Of Effectiveness With Very Little Effort.

O.k." "gee I'm Glad." "me Too. I'm So Sick Of Hot Dogs And Beer And Apple Pie With Cheese On The Side I Could Heave It All In The River." "you'll Love It, Frank. We'll Get A Place Up In The Mountains, Where It's Cool, And Then, After I Get My Act Ready, We Can Go All Over The World With It. Go As We Please, Do As We Please, And Have Plenty Of Money To Spend. Have You Got A Little Bit Of Gypsy In You?" "gypsy? I Had Rings In My Ears When I Was Born.

If You Can't Write Like New York, You Have No Business Living In New York And Making New York The Locale Of Your Stories.

I Write Of The Wish That Comes True--for Some Reason, A Terrifying Thought.