Loud peace propaganda makes war seem imminent.

You must always be a-waggle with LOVE.

One never can know the whys and the wherefores of one's passional changes.

After all, the world is not a stage-not to me: nor a theatre: nor a show-house of any sort. And art, especially novels, are not little theatres where the reader sits aloft and watches...and sighs, commiserates, condones and smiles. That's what you want a book to be: because it leaves you so safe and superior, with your two-dollar ticket to the show. And that's what my books are not and never will be...Whoever reads me will be in the thick of the scrimmage, and if he doesn't like it if he wants a safe seat in the audience-let him read someone else.

All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.

For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.

Another head - and a black alpaca jacket and a serviette this time - to tell us coffee is ready. Not before it is time, too.