Aphorisms are bad for novels. They stick in the reader's teeth.
When friends stop being frank and useful to each other, the whole world loses some of its radiance.
Lapped in poetry, wrapped in the picturesque, armed with logical sentences and inalienable words.
The epic implications of being human end in more than this: We start our lives as if they were momentous stories, with a beginning, a middle and an appropriate end, only to find that they are mostly middles.
People have no idea what a hard job it is for two writers to be friends. Sooner or later you have to talk about each other's work.
To be misunderstood can be the writer's punishment for having disturbed the reader's peace. The greater the disturbance, the greater the possibility of misunderstanding.