I'm Not A Critic So

The Man Who Tells The Tale If He Has A Tale Worth Telling Will Know Exactly What He Is About And This Business Of The Artist As A Sort Of Starry-eyed Inspired Creature, Dancing Along, With His Feet Two Or Three Feet Above The Surface Of The Earth, Not Really Knowing What Sort Of Prints He's Leaving Behind Him, Is Nothing Like The Truth.

Novelists Do Not Write As Birds Sing, By The Push Of Nature. It Is Part Of The Job That There Should Be Much Routine And Some Daily Stuff On The Level Of Carpentry.

Kill The Pig. Cut Her Throat. Spill Her Blood.

I Am Here; And Here Is Nowhere In Particular.

The Navy's A Very Gentlemanly Business. You Fire At The Horizon To Sink A Ship And Then You Pull People Out Of The Water And Say, 'frightfully Sorry, Old Chap.'