I had thought that words were instruments of precision. Now I know that they devour the world, leaving nothing in its place.
What a place to be in is an old library!
Each time you happen to me all over again.
Literature is news that stays news.
Night after night,
He sat and bleared his eyes with books.
When I read a book I seem to read it with my eyes only, but now and then I come across a passage, perhaps only a phrase, which has a meaning for me, and it becomes part of me.
In writing, you must kill all your darlings.
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