The trains roared by like projectiles level on the darkness, fuming and burning, making the valley clang with their passage. They were gone, and the lights of the towns and villages glittered in silence.

I can only see death and more death, till we are black and swollen with death.

One doesn't know, till one is a bit at odds with the world, how much one's friends who believe in one rather generously, mean to one.

For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.

If only we could live two lives: the first in which to make one's mistakes, and the second in which to profit by them.

I am only half there when I am ill, and so there is only half a man to suffer. To suffer in one's whole self is so great a violation, that it is not to be endured.

America does to me what I knew it would do: it just bumps me. The people charge at you like trucks coming down on you -- no awareness. But one tries to dodge aside in time. Bump! bump! go the trucks. And that is human contact.