The rat stops gnawing in the wood, the dungeon walls withdraw, the weight is lifted your pulse steadies and the sun has found your heart, the day was not bad, the season has not been bad, there is sense and even promise in going on.

The mind has its own logic but does not often let others in on it.

The trouble with the sacred Individual is that he has no significance, except as he can acquire it from others, from the social whole.

The trouble with Reason is that it becomes meaningless at the exact point where it refuses to act.

A novelist has mad a fictional representation of life. I doing so, he has revealed to us more significance, it may be, than he could find in life itself.

The West begins where the average annual rainfall drops below twenty inches. When you reach the line which marks that drop - for convenience, the one hundredth meridian - you have reached the West.

Art is the terms of an armistice signed with fate.