It Is Not A Fragrant World.

The Wise Screen Writer Is He Who Wears His Second-best Suit, Artistically Speaking, And Doesn't Take Things Too Much To Heart. He Should Have A Touch Of Cynicism, But Only A Touch. The Complete Cynic Is As Useless To Hollywood As He Is To Himself. He Should Do The Best He Can Without Straining At It. He Should Be Scrupulously Honest About His Work, But He Should Not Expect Scrupulous Honesty In Return. He Won't Get It. And When He Has Had Enough, He Should Say Goodbye With A Smile, Because For All He Knows He May Want To Go Back.

As Honest As You Could Expect A Man To Be In A World Where It's Out Of Style.

The Modern Film Tries Too Hard To Be Real. Its Techniques Of Illusion Are So Perfect That It Requires No Contribution From The Audience But A Mouthful Of Popcorn.

There Is Something About The Literary Life That Repels Me, All This Desperate Building Of Castles On Cobwebs, The Long-drawn Acrimonious Struggle To Make Something Important Which We All Know Will Be Gone Forever In A Few Years, The Miasma Of Failure Which Is To Me Almost As Offensive As The Cheap Gaudiness Of Popular Success.

Some Days I Feel Like Playing It Smooth. Some Days I Feel Like Playing It Like A Waffle Iron.