This head has risen above its hair in a moment of abandon known only to men who have drawn their feet out of their boots to walk awhile in the corridors of the mind.

I like my human experience served up with a little silence and restraint. Silence makes experience go further and, when it does die, gives it that dignity common to a thing one had touched and not ravished

Una's face was an unbroken block of calculation, saving where, upon her upper lip, a little down of hair fluttered. Yet it gave one an uncanny feeling. It made one think of a tassel on a hammer.

I've seen death and I didn't like it.

And must I, perchance, like careful writers, guard myself against the conclusions of my readers?

A man is whole only when he takes into account his shadow.

Love is the first lie; wisdom the last.