All Stories, If Continued Far Enough, End

I Always Like It At A War. There Is Always The Chance That You Will Get Up The Next Morning And Be Killed And Not Have To Write.

It Was Like Certain Dinners I Remember From The War. There Was Much Wine, An Ignored Tension, And A Feeling Of Things Coming That You Could Not Prevent Happening. Under The Wine I Lost The Disgusted Feeling And Was Happy. It Seemed They Were All Such Nice People.

All You Need To Do Is Write Truly And Not Care About What The Fate Of It Is.

I Always Rewrite Each Day Up To The Point Where I Stopped. When It Is All Finished, Naturally You Go Over It. You Get Another Chance To Correct And Rewrite When Someone Else Types It, And You See It Clean In Type. The Last Chance Is In The Proofs. You're Grateful For These Different Chances.

Retirement Is The Ugliest Word In The Language.