#Whykeepblogging The panel is saying I'd tweet, as if I've passed. Yes, I tweet. Can't speak for Faulkner.

Let's see if I can make this computer thing work.

Anyway, we went downstairs to the bar and had a whiskey and soda.

This morning I walked down the Boulevard to the Rue Soufflot for coffee and brioche. It was a fine morning.

All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.

Write me at the Hotel Quintana, Pamplona, Spain.

That is what we are supposed to do when we are at our best — make it all up — but make it up so truly that later it will happen that way.

When U work hard all day with Ur head and know U must work again tom. what else can make them run on a different plane like whiskey?

I've been in love (truly) with five women, the Spanish Republic and the 4th Infantry Division.

It's none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way.

I am opposed to writing about the private lives of living authors and psychoanalyzing them while they are alive.

That is what we are supposed to do when we are at our best — make it all up — but make it up so truly that later it will happen that way.

All my life I've looked at words as though I were seeing them for the first time.

I still need more healthy rest in order to work at my best. My health is the main capital I have and I want to administer it intelligently.

Having books published is very destructive to writing. It is even worse than making love too much.

All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.