I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.

The Quito telephone service is about as reliable as roulette.

If it’s going to be a world with no time for sentiment, it’s not a world that I want to live in.

But now isn’t simply now. Now is also a cold reminder: one whole day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. Every now is labeled with its date, rendering all past nows obsolete, until — later of sooner — perhaps — no, not perhaps — quite certainly: it will come.

We live in stirring times- tea-stirring times.

For other people, I can't speak - but, personally, I haven't gotten wise on anything. Certainly, I've been through this and that; and when it happens again, I say to myself, Here it is again. But that doesn't seem to help me. In my opinion, I, personally, have gotten steadily sillier and sillier - and that's a fact.

No one ever hates without a cause.