Perhaps they were right in putting love into books... it could not live anywhere else.

People need trouble- a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it. Artists do; I don't mean you need to live in a rat hole or gutter, but you have…

Read, read, read. Read everything- trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the mast…

Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything.

I have long felt that any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attack…

Reason is nothing less than the guardian of love.[2]

I cut a hole in my heart and wrote with the blood.