I got what I needed instead of what I wanted and that's just about the best kind of luck you can have.

There is a moon shaped rictus in the streetlamp's globe where a stone has gone and from this aperture there drifts down through the constant helix of aspiring insects a faint and steady rain of the same forms burnt and lifeless.

In his dream she was sick and he cared for her. The dream bore the look of sacrifice but he thought differently. He did not take care of her and she died alone somewhere in the dark and there is no other dream nor other waking world and there is no other tale to tell.

You think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday don't count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it’s made out of. Nothin else.

The freedom of birds is an insult to me.

In every trade save war men of talent and vigor prosper. In war they die.

I look for the words, Professor. I look for the words because I believe that the words is the way to your heart.