Then He Kissed Her. At His Lips'

A Man's Social Rank Is Determined By The Amount Of Bread He Eats In A Sandwich.

Nobody Ever Became A Writer Just By Wanting To Be One.

I Began To Like New York, The Racy, Adventurous Feel Of It At Night, And The Satisfaction That The Constant Flicker Of Men And Women And Machines Gives To The Restless Eye.

To Have Something To Say Is A Question Of Sleepless Nights And Worry And Endless Ratiocination Of Subject - Of Endless Trying To Dig Out The Essential Truth, The Essential Justice. As A First Premise You Have To Develop A Conscience And If On Top Of That You Have Talent So Much The Better. But If You Have Talent Without The Conscience, You Are Just One Of Many Thousands Of Journalists.

But You Can Love More Than Just One Person, Can't You?