I Have Made Love To Ten Thousand

Writing Is Not A Profession But A Vocation Of Unhappiness. I Don't Think An Artist Can Ever Be Happy.

If Each One Of Us Could Make Just One Other Happy, The Whole World Would Know Happiness.

I Would Like To Carve My Novel In A Piece Of Wood.

And Boucard Desisted, Probably Because Like Everyone Else He Was Deeply Impressed By This Man Who Had Laid All Ghosts, Who Had Lost All Shadows, And Who Stared You In The Eyes With Cold Serenity.

I'm A Bit Like A Sponge. When I'm Not Writing I Absorb Life Like Water. When I Write I Squeeze The Sponge A Little - And Out Comes, Not Water But Ink.