The Reward Of Art Is Not Fame

There Are Only Three Things Which Make Life Worth Living: To Be Writing A Tolerably Good Book, To Be In A Dinner Party Of Six, And To Be Traveling South With Someone Whom Your Conscience Permits You To Love.

The More I See Of Life The More I Perceive That Only Through Solitary Communion With Nature Can One Gain An Idea Of Its Richness And Meaning.

A Writer Is In Danger Of Allowing His Talent To Dull Who Lets More Than A Year Go Past Without Finding Himself In His Rightful Place Of Composition, The Small Single Unluxurious Retreat Of The Twentieth Century, The Hotel Bedroom.

Hemingway Is Great In That Alone Of Living Writers He Has Saturated His Work With The Memory Of Physical Pleasure, With Sunshine And Salt Water, With Food, Wine And Making Love And The Remorse Which Is The Shadow Of That Sun.

Classical And Romantic: Private Language Of A Family Quarrel, A Dead Dispute Over The Distribution Of Emphasis Between Man And Nature.