There Are The Two Curses Of Spain,

There Is Never Any Ending To Paris And The Memory Of Each Person Who Has Lived In It Differs From That Of Any Other. We Always Returned To It No Matter Who We Were Or How It Was Changed Or With What Difficulties, Or Ease, It Could Be Reached. Paris Was Always Worth It And You Received Return For Whatever You Brought To It. But This Is How Paris Was In The Early Days When We Were Very Poor And Very Happy.

Since I Had Started To Break Down All My Writing And Get Rid Of All Facility And Try To Make Instead Of Describe, Writing Had Been Wonderful To Do.

Retirement Is The Ugliest Word In The Language.

The Old Man Looked At Him With His Sun-burned, Confident Loving Eyes.

There Is No Rule On How To Write. Sometimes It Comes Easily And Perfectly; Sometimes It's Like Drilling Rock And Then Blasting It Out With Charges.