The Actual Writing Is What You Live

The Challenge Is To Write About Real Things Magically.

The Wet Air Was As Cold As The Ashes Of Love.

In Everything That Can Be Called Art There Is A Quality Of Redemption.

What Greater Prestige Can A Man Like Me (not Too Gifted, But Very Understanding) Have Than To Have Taken A Cheap, Shoddy And Utterly Lost Kind Of Writing, And Have Made Of It Something That Intellectuals Claw Each Other About?

The Girl Gave Him A Look Which Ought To Have Stuck At Least Four Inches Out Of His Back.