To Be Prejudiced Is The Privilege Of

When I Have Eaten Mangoes, I Have Felt Like Eve.

Work Is A Dull Thing; You Cannot Get Away From That. The Only Agreeable Existence Is One Of Idleness, And That Is Not, Unfortunately, Always Compatible With Continuing To Exist At All.

I Can Think Of Few Things More Disastrous Than Starting A New Correspondence With Any One. Letters Are A Burden Indeed ... They Seem Often The Last Straw That Breaks The Back ... You Should See The Piles Of Those That I Must Answer That Litter And Weight My Writing Table.

Words, Living And Ghostly, The Quick And The Dead, Crowd And Jostle The Otherwise Too Empty Corridors Of My Mind ... To Move Among This Bright, Strange, Often Fabulous Herd Of Beings, To Summon Them At My Will, To Fasten Them On To Paper Like Flies, That They May Decorate It, This Is The Pleasure Of Writing.

Nearly All Novels Are Too Long.