Sublime

wrote about Scott, for example, but I gave him a cover name: Julian [in “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”].

“Balzac, Dante, Joseph Conrad, Dickens,”

Back at the office, Max managed to dictate the rest of his letters just before the tennis champion Helen Wills Moody strode in.

James Jones, who was living in Illinois and inching ahead with From Here to Eternity.

With his simple intuition that Taylor Caldwell should write historical novels, Perkins had founded one of the most enduring and profitable careers in the history of book publishing, one that continued three decades after his own death.

Strange to think of his voice still flying through the air, already a country away, growing weaker every mile.

William Maxwell says it somewhere in The Folded Leaf: that the teenager gets so brooding in his sexuality and self-sanctity that all he requires of others is their absence.