Love so sprang at her, she honestly thought no one had ever looked into it. Where was it in literature? Someone would have written something. She must not have recognized it. Time to read everything again.

Every book has an intrinsic impossibility, which its writer discovers as soon as his first excitement dwindles.

We still and always want waking.

Our life seems cursed to be a wiggle merely, and a wandering without end.

Doing something does not require discipline. It creates its own discipline - with a little help from caffeine.

We are here on the planet only once, and might as well get a feel for the place.

The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside by a generous hand. But- and this is the point- who gets excited by a mere penny? But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days.