I don't wish to be a slave any longer to the stringent exigencies of literature.
Literature isn't a moral beauty contest. Its power arises from the authority and audacity with which the impersonation is pulled off; the belief it inspires is what counts.
Literature got me into this mess and literature is going to have to get me out of it.
Literature takes a habit of mind that has disappeared. It requires silence, some form of isolation, and sustained concentration in the presence of an enigmatic thing.
The long haul kind of wearies me, the thought of doing a book for two or three or years; and you have to rule so much else out of your life. I always knew that literature satisfied a taste for considering life in a certain way, but that it wasn't a guide to living.