To Be Social Is To Be Forgiving.

If The Writer Does Not Cry, The Reader Does Not Cry.

When Clever People Ask Me Where I Get A Poem, I Despair.

How Are We To Write The Russian Novel In America As Long As Life Goes So Unterribly?

Loosely Bound By Countless Silken Ties Of Love And Thought To Everything On Earth The Compass Round

I Never Feel More At Home Than At A Ballgame.