The Sentence Is The Greatest Human Invention

In Order Really To Write One Has To Sink Deep Into The Self And Become Lost There.

Enormous Morning, Ponderous, Meticulous; Gray Light Streaking Each Bare Branch, Each Single Twig, Along One Side, Making Another Tree, Of Glassy Veins.

Dostoevsky Is Such A Bad Writer It Is Hard To Take Him Seriously As A Novelist, Though He Is A Wonderful Philosopher.

I'm A Hopeless 19th-century Romantic.

I Think I'm Less The Writer Than I'm The Written.