All Artists Are Two-headed Calves.

That's All A Writer Has To Write About - What He Sees And Hears And What Not.

I've Been Working, Working, Working, And You Know, Sometimes You Look Back At Your Work And You See That It Just Isn't Any Good.

He Loved Her, He Loved Her, And Until He'd Loved Her She Had Never Minded Being Alone.

All Literature Is Gossip.

I've Got Something Inside Of Me, Peasantlike And Stubborn, And I'm In It Till The End Of The Race.