Life Is A Hideous Thing.

My Reason For Writing Stories Is To Give Myself The Satisfaction Of Visualising More Clearly And Detailedly And Stably The Vague, Elusive, Fragmentary Impressions Of Wonder, Beauty, And Adventurous Expectancy Which Are Conveyed To Me By Certain Sights (scenic, Architectural, Atmospheric, Etc.), Ideas, Occurrences, And Images Encountered In Art And Literature.

We Shall See That At Which Dogs Howl In The Dark, And That At Which Cats Prick Up Their Ears After Midnight.

Memories And Possibilities Are Even More Hideous Than Realities.

I Never Ask A Man What His Business Is, For It Never Interests Me. What I Ask Him About Are His Thoughts And Dreams.

The Only Saving Grace Of The Present Is That It's Too Damned Stupid To Question The Past Very Closely.