The town is an advertisement for itself; none of its charms are left to the visitor's imagination.

I'm like a book you have to read. A book can't read itself to you. It doesn't even know what it's about. I don't know what I'm about.

She is sighing deeply now with sympathy and delight - the delight of an addict when someone else admits he's hooked, too.

We live in stirring times- tea-stirring times.

I am alive, he says to himself, I am alive! And life energy surges hotly through him, and delight, and appetite. How good to be in a body - even this old beat-up carcass - that still has warm blood and live semen and rich marrow and wholesome flesh!

I am a camera, with its shutter open. Someday, all of this will be developed, printed, fixed.

A minority is only thought of as a minority when it constitutes some kind of threat to the majority, real or imaginary. And no threat is ever quite imaginary.