The civilization of one epoch becomes the manure of the next.

The shock, for an intelligent writer, of discovering for the first time that there are people younger than himself who think him stupid is severe.

The headmistress was an able instructress in French and history and we learned with her as fast as fear could teach us.

Doing is overrated, and success undesirable, but the bitterness of failure even more so.

Sheep with a nasty side.

We fear something before we hate.

While thoughts exist, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.