A Novelist Is A Man Who Doesn't

Trotsky Rises To Give Me His Hand, Then Sits At His Desk, Gently Allowing His Regard To Light On My Person.

I Saw Mussolini Tirelessly Contemplate A Parade Of Thousands Of Young Men.

A Novelist Is A Man Who Doesn't Like His Mother.

I Write Fast, Because I Have Not The Brains To Write Slow.

It Just Happened. As Though A Moment Comes When It's Both Necessary And Natural To Make A Decision That Has Long Since Been Made.