I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word.
Since I had started to break down all my writing and get rid of all facility and try to make instead of describe, writing had been wonderful to do.
If a writer stops observing, he is finished.
You must be prepared to work always without applause.
I read my own books sometimes to cheer me when it is hard to write, and then I remember that it was always difficult, and how nearly impossible it was sometimes.
You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.
Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?
Most people never listen.
Remember to get the weather in your damn book-weather is very important.
I never had to choose a subject – my subject rather chose me.
A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.
As long as you can start, you are all right. The juice will come.
There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.
The things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist.
London is a riddle. Paris is an explanation.
I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars.
The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.
And who understands? Not me, because if I did I would forgive it all.
Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.
Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don’t know the ten-dollar words. I know them all right. But there are older and simpler and better words, and those are the ones I use.