Fascism Is A Lie Told

The Brown Blotches Of The Benevolent Skin Cancer The Sun Brings From Its Reflection On The Tropic Sea Were On His Cheeks. The Blotches Ran Well Down The Sides Of His Face And His Hands Had The Deep-creased Scars From Handling Heavy Fish On The Cords. But None Of These Scars Were Fresh. They Were As Old As Erosions In A Fishless Desert.

When Writing A Novel A Writer Should Create Living People; People Not Characters. A Character Is A Caricature.

Don't Do What You Sincerely Don't Want To Do. Never Confuse Movement With Action.

You've Such A Lovely Temperature.

Until You're Grown-up They Send You To Reform School. After You're Grown-up They Send You To The Penitentiary.