If we break promises to God, shouldn't we be allowed an occasional violation of our word to our friends and superiors?

There's nothing like rejection to make you do an inventory of yourself.

I used to save all my rejection slips because I told myself, one day I'm going to autograph these and auction them. And then I lost the box.

If there is any human tragedy, there is only one, and it occurs when we forget who we are and remain silent while a stranger takes up residence inside our skin.

The system shaves the dice on the side of those with money and power, and anyone who believes otherwise deserves anything that happens to him.

You do it a day at a time. You write as well as you can, you put it in the mail, you leave it under submission, you never leave it at home.

And like most middle-aged people who hear the clock ticking in their lives, I had come to resent a waste or theft of my time that was greater than any theft of my goods or money.

How do you explain to yourself the casual manner in which you threw your life away?

...and I wonder if there is any way to adequately describe the folly that causes us to undo all the great gifts of both Earth and Heaven.

When you find the right people, you never let go. The people who count are the ones who are your friends in lean times. You have all the friends you want when things are going well.

That's one of the great advantages of age. You can say, I don't want to, I don't care, you can throw temper tantrums, and nobody minds.

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots the other wings.

The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.

The money-getter who pleads his love of work has a lame defense, for love of work at money-getting is a lower taste than love of money.

Being an artist is being an isolated individual.

The great failure in education, much of the time, is the lack of excitement and stimulus

I have taken care of everything in the course of my life, only not for death, and now I have to die completely unprepared.

While we converse with her, we mark No want of day, nor think it dark.

What does education do, what does it have to offer, when deprived of its necessary partner, the future, and face instead with - no future at all?

We love each other like matches in the dark. We don't talk, we catch fire instead

Everybody says, TV is great, the writer has so much power. I'm still trying to convince myself that's true. When do the writers ever have power? Ever? They don't. Even in the book industry.