The Tongue May Hide The Truth But

My Writing Is Progressing Slowly, But At Least It's Moving Forward. I'm Sure That's The Case. The Only Problem Is That I'm Never Absolutely Certain That What I've Written Is Any Good.

There's Only One Degree Of Freshness — The First, Which Makes It Also The Last

There Is No Greater Misfortune In The World Than The Loss Of Reason.

Remove The Document—and You Remove The Man.

Once In 1919, When I Was Traveling At Night By Train, I Wrote A Short Story. In The Town Where The Train Stopped, I Took The Story To The Publisher Of The Newspaper Who Published The Story.