We do survive every moment, after all, except the last one.
Existence itself does not feel horrible; it feels like an ecstasy, rather, which we have only to be still to experience.
Rain is grace; rain is the sky descending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.
An affair wants to spill, to share its glory with the world. No act is so private it does not seek applause.
I seem to have this need to belong to some church. I get worried on Sunday mornings.
The Founding Fathers in their wisdom decided that children were an unnatural strain on parents. So they provided jails called schools, equipped with tortures called an education.
That a marriage ends is less than ideal; but all things end under heaven, and if temporality is held to be invalidating, then nothing real succeeds.
I've always tried to write about America. It's very worth a writer's effort.
All cartoonists are geniuses, but Arnold Roth is especially so.
To guarantee the individual maximum freedom within a social frame of minimal laws ensures - if not happiness - its hopeful pursuit.
There's almost nothing worse to live with than a struggling artist.
My wife and I had children when we were children ourselves.
Religion enables us to ignore nothingness and get on with the jobs of life.
Harvard has enough panegyrists without me.
The lust to meet authors ranks low, I think, on the roll of holy appetites; but it is an authentic pang.
In art, anything goes, and if it goes, it goes.
The miracle of turning inklings into thoughts and thoughts into words and words into metal and print and ink never palls for me.
New York is, of course, many cities, and an exile does not return to the one he left.
It is not an aesthetic misstep to make the viewer aware of the paint and the painter's hand. Such an empathetic awareness lies at the heart of aesthetic appreciation.
My first ambition was to be an animator for Walt Disney. Then I wanted to be a magazine cartoonist.
There is a great deal of busywork to a writer's life, as to a professor's life, a great deal of work that matters only in that, if you don't do it, your desk becomes very full of papers. So, there is a lot of letter answering and a certain amount of speaking, though I try to keep that at a minimum.
I think books should have secrets, like people do.
We're past the age of heroes and hero kings... Most of our lives are basically mundane and dull, and it's up to the writer to find ways to make them interesting.
I'm a dull person.
The first author I met socially was Joyce Cary.
In my first 15 or 20 years of authorship, I was almost never asked to give a speech or an interview. The written work was supposed to speak for itself, and to sell itself, sometimes even without the author's photograph on the back flap.
Dreams come true; without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them.
Four years was enough of Harvard. I still had a lot to learn, but had been given the liberating notion that now I could teach myself.
John Barth, I think, was really a writer of my own age and somewhat of my own temperament, although his books are very different from mine, and he has been a spokesman for the very ambitious, long, rather academic novel. But I don't think that what he is saying, so far as I understand it, is so very different from what I'm saying.
Young or old, a writer sends a book into the world, not himself.
When I was born, my parents and my mother's parents planted a dogwood tree in the side yard of the large white house in which we lived throughout my boyhood. This tree I learned quite early, was exactly my age - was, in a sense, me.
In any interview, you do say more or less than you mean.
In leaving New York in 1957, I did leave without regret the literary demimonde of agents and would-be's and with-it nonparticipants; this world seemed unnutritious and interfering.
I love Shillington not as one loves Capri or New York, because they are special, but as one loves one's own body and consciousness, because they are synonymous with being.
A house, having been willfully purchased and furnished, tells us more than a body, and its description is a foremost resource of the art of fiction.
Without books, we might just melt into the airwaves and be just another set of blips.