The passing of armies and the passing of sands in the desert are one.

He said that whether a man's life was writ in a book someplace or whether it took its form day by day was one and the same for it had but one reality and that was the living of it.

Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.

It may be that the life I desire for her no longer even exists, yet I know what she does not. That there is nothing to lose.

I always thought when I got older that God would sort of come into my life in some way. He didn't. I don't blame him. If I was him I'd have the same opinion about me that he does.

I'd rather to make a good run as a bad stand.

When we're all gone at last then there'll be nobody here but death and his days will be numbered too. He'll be out in the road there with nothing to do and nobody to do it to. He'll say: where did everybody go? And that's how it will be. What's wrong with that?