Never, under any circumstances, let the Virginian wolfsnake near a typewriter.

It is always sad when someone leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice-cream sandwiches.

I go to bed early and rise late and feel as if I have hardly slept, probably because I have been reading almost the entire time.

Criminals should be punished, not fed pastries.

This is an absurd moral, for you and I both know that sometimes not only is it good to lie, it is necessary to lie.

It is almost as if happiness is an acquired taste, like coconut cordial or ceviche, to which you can eventually become accustomed, but despair is something surprising each time you encounter it.

Literature doesn’t exactly have a strong mental-health track record.