The martyr who longs for the flames can be no right candidate for them.

People think they know what they want but they generally don't. Sometimes if they're lucky they'll get it anyways.

Deep in each man is the knowledge that something knows of his existence. Something knows, and cannot be fled nor hid from.

I can normally tell how intelligent a man is by how stupid he thinks I am.

They spoke less and less between them until at last they were silent altogether as is often the way with travelers approaching the end of a journey.

There is no greater monster than reason.

How does a man decide in what order to abandon his life?