Earth Has Its Boundaries, But Human Stupidity

It's A Delicious Thing To Write. To Be No Longer Yourself But To Move In An Entire Universe Of Your Own Creating.

Criticism Occupies The Lowest Place In The Literary Hierarchy: As Regards Form, Almost Always; And As Regards Moral Value, Incontestably. It Comes After Rhyming Games And Acrostics, Which At Least Require A Certain Inventiveness.

When You Reduce A Woman To Writing, She Makes You Think Of A Thousand Other Women

Put All Your Rage And Madness Into Your Work And Live As Orderly A Life As Possible.

I Don't Believe That Happiness Is Possible, But I Think Tranquility Is.