Life Is A Succession Of Readjustments.

Childish Fantasy, Like The Sheath Over The Bud, Not Only Protects But Curbs The Terrible Budding Spirit, Protects Not Only Innocence From The World, But The World From The Power Of Innocence.

The Novelist's--any Writer's--object Is To Whittle Down His Meaning To The Exactest And Finest Possible Point. What, Of Course, Isfatal Is When He Does Not Know What He Does Mean: He Has No Point To Sharpen.

Makes Of Men Date, Like Makes Of Car.

Characters Are Not Created By Writers. They Pre-exist And Have To Be Found.

Never To Lie Is To Have No Lock On Your Door, You Are Never Wholly Alone.