Nothing Brings On Jealousy Like

Art Must Take Reality By Surprise. It Takes Those Moments Which Are For Us Merely A Moment, Plus A Moment, Plus Another Moment, And Arbitrarily Transforms Them Into A Special Series Of Moments Held Together By A Major Emotion.

A Dress Makes No Sense Unless It Inspires Men To Take It Off Of You.

I've Tried Very Hard And I've Never Found Any Resemblance Between The People I Know And The People In My Novels.

A Strange Melancholy Pervades Me To Which I Hesitate To Give The Grave And Beautiful Name Of Sorrow. The Idea Of Sorrow Has Always Appealed To Me But Now I Am Almost Ashamed Of It's Complete Egoism. I Have Known Boredom, Regret, And Occasionally Remorse, But Never Sorrow. Today It Envelops Me Like A Silken Web, Enervating And Soft, And Sets Me Apart From Everybody Else.

Usually I Avoided College Students, Whom I Considered Brutal, Wrapped Up In Themselves, Particularly In Their Youth, In Which They Found Material For Drama Or An Excuse For Their Own Boredom. I Did Not Care For Young People.