Have Not All Poetic Truths Been Already

Good-byes Breed A Sort Of Distaste For Whomever You Say Good-bye To; This Hurts, You Feel, This Must Not Happen Again.

Temperamentally, The Writer Exists On Happenings, On Contacts, Conflicts, Action And Reaction, Speed, Pressure, Tension. Were He Acontemplative Purely, He Would Not Write.

What Is A Novel? I Say: An Invented Story. At The Same Time A Story Which, Though Invented Has The Power To Ring True. True To What? True To Life As The Reader Knows Life To Be Or, It May Be, Feels Life To Be. And I Mean The Adult, The Grown-up Reader. Such A Reader Has Outgrown Fairy Tales, And We Do Not Want The Fantastic And The Impossible. So I Say To You That A Novel Must Stand Up To The Adult Tests Of Reality.

Often When I Write I Am Trying To Make Words Do The Work Of Line And Color. I Have The Painter's Sensitivity To Light. Much Of My Writing Is Verbal Painting.

Somehow At Parties At Which One Stays Standing Up One Seems To Require To Be More Concentratedly Intelligent Than One Does At Those At Which One Can Sit Down.