When God Made Man She Was Practicing.

Tennis, Imprisoned Within Fixed Boundaries, A Patch Of An Acre, A Green Rectangle, Tries The Human Soul. A Tennis Court Is Like A Coffin, Only Larger.

Not Until My Middle Thirties Did I Consider Myself A Novelist.

Intuition Is A Suspension Of Logic Due To Impatience.

One Must Fight For A Life Of Action, Not Reaction.

The Owner Of Mojo's Was A Suicide Blonde, Dyed By Her Own Hand.