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People try to force things. It's disastrous. Just leave your mind alone. Your intuition knows what it wants to write, so get out of the way.
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Mars is empty now. Five hundred years from now, it'll be full of people.
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My personal telephone book is a book of the dead now. I'm so old. Almost all of my friends have died, and I don't have the guts to take their names out of the book.
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There was her face, like a summer peach, beautiful and warm, and the light of the candles reflected in her dark eyes. He held his breath. The entire world waited and held its breath.
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What can we writers learn from lizards, lift from birds? In quickness is truth. The faster you blurt, the more swiftly you write, the more honest you are. In hesitation is thought. In delay comes the effort for a style, instead of leaping upon truth which is the only style worth deadfalling or tiger-trapping.
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Every day is Christmas Day to a dog.
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A story should be like a river, flowing and never stopping, your readers passengers on a boat, whirling downstream through constantly refreshing and changing scemery.
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How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike.
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The very first experiments with building rockets and firing them off were carried out by students at Cal Tech in 1937, '38 and '39. And later these people put together these jet propulsion labs in Pasadena and wound up sending aircraft and spacecraft to the moon. So it all began very primitively with love.
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I was not predicting the future, I was trying to prevent it.