I'd rather be in trouble for having done something than for not having done anything.

A whim, a passing mood, readily induces the novelist to move hearth and home elsewhere. He can always plead work as an excuse to get him out of the clutches of bothersome hosts.

When a man who is drinking neat gin starts talking about his mother he is past all argument.

The lucky man is he who knows how much to leave to chance.

The work is with me when I wake up in the morning; it is with me while I eat my breakfast in bed and run through the newspaper, while I shave and bathe and dress.

Novel writing wrecks homes.

Perhaps that suspicion of fraud enhances the flavor.

A man who writes for a living does not have to go anywhere in particular, and he could rarely afford to if he wanted.

Novel writing is far and away the most exhausting work I know.

There is no other way of writing a novel than to begin at the beginning at to continue to the end.

Everything was in stark and dreadful contrast with the trivial crises and counterfeit emotions of Hollywood, and I returned to England deeply moved and emotionally worn out.

What have I done to her?" Gabriel muttered to himself as he crossed the room to crank open a window. Cool air washed over his skin. "What the devil did she do to me?

Your dreams are unlimited possibilities.

And I know that the younger generation is doing things that are so ingenious. And for them it's not a matter of a political belief or an environmental stance. It's really just common sense.

Any time you talk to anyone about something that they love, they're, like, their most beautiful. It's a cool gift to get to talk to people about what they love.

Never lose heart in the power of the gospel. Do not believe that there exists any man, much less any race of men, for whom the gospel is not fitted.

I'm past doing one chin-up more than I did the day before. I just kind of do what I feel like.

Alluding to hell is a warning that a person can completely neglect his purpose in life. I don't believe in an eternal hell.

Too much sanity may be madness!

To me, reading through old letters and journals is like treasure hunting. Somewhere in those faded, handwritten lines there is a story that has been packed away in a dusty old box for years.

Nobody who's ever been to Gulag is a pacifist.