There Are Moments When You

For This Was The Round Of Love: Fear Which Leads On Desire, Tenderness And Fury, And That Brutal Anguish Which Triumphantly Follows Pleasure.

Passion Is The Salt Of Life, And That At The Times When We Are Under Its Spell This Salt Is Indispensable To Us, Even If We Have Got Along Very Well Without It Before.

I Shall Live Badly If I Do Not Write, And I Shall Write Badly If I Do Not Live.

It Seems To Me That There Are Two Kinds Of Trickery: The "fronts" People Assume Before One Another's Eyes, And The "front" A Writer Puts On The Face Of Reality.

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.