Reality, looked at steadily, is unbearable.

Writing is like a 'lust,' or like 'scratching when you itch.' Writing comes as a result of a very strong impulse, and when it does come, I for one must get it out.

We treat our dogs as if they were "almost human": that is why they really become "almost human" in the end.

When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only person in the world.

Like a good chess player, Satan is always trying to maneuver you into a position where you can save your castle only by losing your bishop.

Remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is too poor to buy.

Reality, looked at steadily, is unbearable.