If you are allergic to a thing, it is best not to put that thing in your mouth, particularly if the thing is cats.

Everyone tells you it's all right to cry, but not enough people say it's all right if you don't want people to know.

The burning of a book is a sad, sad sight, for even though a book is nothing but ink and paper, it feels as if the ideas contained in the book are disappearing as the pages turn to ashes and the cover and binding--which is the term for the stitching and glue that holds the pages together--blacken and curl as the flames do their wicked work. When someone is burning a book, they are showing utter contempt for all of the thinking that produced its ideas, all of the labor that went into its words and sentences, and all of the trouble that befell the author . . .

Miracles can happen, even to those who are small, flammable, and dressed all in black.

Tell it to everyone you know, but pretend you're kidding.

An apocryphal story - the word "apocryphal" here means "obviously untrue" - tells of two people, long ago, who were very bored, and that instead of complaining about it they sat up all night and invented the game of chess so that everyone else in the world, on evenings when there is nothing to do, can also be bored by the perplexing and tedious game they invented.

The trick to following someone without getting caught is to follow somebody who doesn't think they're being followed.