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Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.

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When I am working on a book or a story, I write every morning as soon after first light as possible. There is no one to disturb you, and it is cool or...more

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Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.

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The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the v...more

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But after I got them to leave and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn't any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I w...more

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That was what you did. You died. You did not know what it was about. They threw you in and told you the rules and the first time they caught you off b...more

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I had never known any man to die while speaking in terza-rima

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I was trying to learn to write, commencing with the simplest things, and one of the simplest things of all and the most fundamental is violent death.

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That's my town,' Joaquin said. 'What a fine town, but how the buena gente, the good people of that town, have suffered in this war.' Then, his face gr...more

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Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. L...more

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The fish is my friend too...I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars. Imagine...more