Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.

Assured her I've never loved anyone except myself and have no intention of starting now.

I think it's natural for youth to be drawn to newness: The world is still new for them.

What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds.

Writing is probably one-fifth coming up with the stuff, and four-fifths self-editing again and again and again.

War's an auction where whoever can pay the most in damage and still be standing wins.

Torturous advances won over generations can be lost by a single stroke of a myopic president's pen or a vainglorious general's sword.