Writing Has To Support Itself.

I've Never Abandoned The Novel.

I Always Knew Who I Was And Where I Had Come From. I Was Not Looking For A Home In Other People's Lands.

How Could People Like These, Without Words To Put To Their Emotions And Passions, Manage? They Could, At Best, Only Suffer Dumbly. Their Pains And Humiliations Would Work Themselves Out In Their Characters Alone: Like Evil Spirits Possessing A Body, So That The Body Itself Might Appear Innocent Of What It Did.

There Are Two Ways Of Talking. One Is The Easy Way, Where You Talk Lightly, And The Other One Is The Considered Way. The Considered Way Is What I Have Put My Name To.

I Still Think It's Really Quite Wonderful When I Read A Sentence Of Mine And It Has That Quality Of Lastingness.