His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.

While Time, The endless idiot, runs screaming round the world.

Wherever you look there’s meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss. A fellow can’t live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness. Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear—and nobody seems to know. Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed—stupid and mean.

In his face there came to be a brooding peace that is seen most often in the faces of the very sorrowful or the very wise. But still he wandered through the streets of the town, always silent and alone.

Death is the great gamer with a sleeve of tricks.

I want - I want - I want - was all that she could think about - but just what this real want was she did not know.

The value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.