Name me any liquid — except our own blood — that flows more intimately and incessantly through the labyrinth of symbols we have conceived to mark our status as human beings, from the rudest peasant festival to the mystery of the Eucharist.

One's first book, kiss, home run is always the best.

A bottle of wine begs to be shared; I have never met a miserly wine lover.

I think we must quote whenever we feel that the allusion is interesting or helpful or amusing.

I found nothing really wrong with this autobiography except poor choice of subject.

The kind of poetry to avoid in the pretty-pretty kind that pleased our grandmothers, the kind that Longfellow and Tennyson, good poets at their best, wrote at their worst.

Gertrude Stein was masterly in making nothing happen very slowly