Fame Is A Powerful Aphrodisiac.

A Writer Doesn't Write For His Readers, Does He? Yet He Has To Take Elementary Precautions All The Same, To Make Them Comfortable.

My Two Fingers On A Typewriter Have Never Connected With My Brain. My Hand On A Pen Does. A Fountain Pen, Of Course. Ball-point Pens Are Only Good For Filling Out Forms On A Plane.

You Needn't Be So Scared. Love Doesn't End. Just Because We Don't See Each Other.

It Infuriated Him To Think That There Were Still People In The State Who Believed In A Loving And Merciful God. There Are Mystics Who Are Said To Have Experienced God Directly. He Was A Mystic, Too, And What He Had Experienced Was Vacancy--a Complete Certainty In The Existence Of A Dying, Cooling World, Of Human Beings Who Had Evolved From Animals For No Purpose At All.

Its Typical Of Mexico, Of The Whole Human Race Perhaps — Violence In Favour Of An Ideal And Then The Ideal Lost But The Violence Just Going On.