The True Traveler Is He Who Goes

Sincerity Is Not A Spontaneous Flower Nor Is Modesty Either.

To Write Is To Pour One’s Innermost Self Passionately Upon The Tempting Paper, At Such Frantic Speed That Sometimes One’s Hand Struggles And Rebels, Overdriven By The Impatient God Which Guides It - And To Find, Next Day, In Place Of The Golden Bough That Bloomed Miraculously In That Dazzling Hour, A Withered Bramble And A Stunted Flower.

In The Matter Of Furnishing, I Find A Certain Absence Of Ugliness Far Worse Than Ugliness.

There Are No Ordinary Cats.

Sit Down And Put Down Everything That Comes Into Your Head And Then You're A Writer. But An Author Is One Who Can Judge His Own Stuff's Worth, Without Pity, And Destroy Most Of It.