Henry Miller is not really a writer but a non-stop talker to whom someone has given a typewriter.
In real life, of course, it is the hare who wins. Every time. Look around you. And in any case, it is my contention that Aesop was writing for the tortoise market.
I have nothing to say, I am saying it and that is poetry.
I do not think that Rousseau’s poem “Ode to Posterity” will reach its destination.
Every good journalist has a novel in him — which is an excellent place for it.
Everywhere I go, I am asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that it doesn’t stifle enough of them.
Autobiography is an unrivalled vehicle for telling the truth about other people.
The only demand I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works.
This is a book everyone can afford to be without.
There’s a new dictionary for masochists. It has all the words but they’re not in alphabetical order.
A historian is just an unsuccessful novelist.
Proof-reading is more effective after publication.
The value of rubbish is unaltered by translation, abstraction or citation.
You could always tell by his conversation which volume of Encyclopaedia Britannica Aldous Huxley had been reading. One day it would be Alps,Andes and Apennines and the next it would be the Himalayas and the Hippocratic Oath.
I enjoyed talking to Virginia Woolf, but thought nothing of her writing. I considered her a beautiful little knitter.
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