Autumn Arrives In The Early

Some People Are Molded By Their Admirations, Others By Their Hostilities.

Certain Books Come To Meet Me, As Do People.

Pity The Selfishness Of Lovers: It Is Brief, A Forlorn Hope; It Is Impossible.

I Am Fully Intelligent Only When I Write. I Have A Certain Amount Of Small-change Intelligence, Which I Carry Round With Me As, At Any Rate In A Town, One Has To Carry Small Money, For The Needs Of The Day, The Non-writing Day. But It Seems To Me I Seldom Purely Think ... If I Thought More I Might Write Less.

In 'real Life' Everything Is Diluted; In The Novel Everything Is Condensed.