Each man kills the thing he loves.

I conclude that there is as much sense in nonsense as there is nonsense in sense.

Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?

This must be a real horrorshow film if you're so keen on my viddying it.

As we grow older, the memories of early life brighten, those of maturity and senescence grow dim and confused.

A man can write one book that can be great, but this doesn't make him a great writer-just the writer of a great book. . . I think a writer has to extend very widely, as well as plunge very deep, to be a great novelist.

Blessed tree and blessed birds, that were to be neither saved nor damned.