Only The Few Know The Sweetness Of

The Writer, An Old Man With A White Moustache, Had Some Difficulty Getting Into Bed.

The Moment One Of The People Took One Of The Truths To Himself, Called It Histruth, And Tried To Live His Life By It, He Became A Grotesque And The Truth He Embraced A Falsehood.

I Have Seldom Written A Story, Long Or Short, That I Did Not Have To Write And Rewrite. There Are Single Stories Of Mine That Have Taken Me Ten Or Twelve Years To Get Written.

All Good New Orleanians Go To Look At The Mississippi At Least Once A Day. At Night It Is Like Creeping Into A Dark Bedroom To Look At A Sleeping Child--something Of That Sort--gives You The Same Warm Nice Feeling, I Mean.

It May Be True Of All Relationships, Not Only Between Fathers And Sons, But Between Men And Women. Nothing Seems Fixed. Everything Is Always Changing. We Seem To Have Very Little Control Over Our Emotional Life.