In 1957, I Decided: Write Or Perish.

In A Certain Sense, A Writer Is An Exile, An Outsider, Always Reporting On Things, And It Is Part Of His Life To Keep On The Move. Travel Is Natural.

It's Just That It's Hard To Believe In Greatness.

If You Write Enough, You Begin To Learn To Do Things. But In A Way, You Do Start From Zero Each Time.

God Is The God Of The People Who Are At Their Wits End, Who Are Right Up Against It With Their Backs To The Wall, And He Delights To Come To Our Help When We Need Him Most.

To Write? Because All This Is Going To Vanish. The Only Thing Left Will Be The Prose And Poems, The Books, What Is Written Down. Man Was Very Fortunate To Have Invented The Book. Without It The Past Would Completely Vanish, And We Would Be Left With Nothing, We Would Be Naked On Earth.