Whether deliberately, unconsciously or accidentally, she seems to have composed her own life so that its fitful, rudderless, and self-doubting first half was alchemized into gold when the austere bluestocking became the fallen woman.
Professors of literature collect books the way a ship collects barnacles, without seeming effort.
Upon becoming fifty the one thing you can't afford is habit.
What marks a writer is this: until she - or he, of course - writes down whatever happened, turns it into a story, it hasn't really happened, it hasn't shape, form, reality.
That is the point of quotations. One can use another's words to be insulting.
Cynic' is the sentimentalist's name for the realist.
as the years go on a sense of deep patience comes over one; one seems to know the virtue of ripeness, and the danger of rushing events.
New York is not like London, a now-and-then place to many people. You can either not live in New York or not live anyplace else. One is either a lover or hater.
It's hard to be happy, and safe, and applauded in a miserable world.
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