Art is a form of catharsis.
People ought to be one of two things, young or dead.
That woman speaks eighteen languages, and can't say 'No' in any of them.
At birth the Devil touched my tongue.
Nevil Shute's On the Beach is no Christmas carol, but it seems to me a remarkably fine novel, one which I read, in the peculiarly repulsive phrase, with my eyes glued to the page.
If I should labor through daylight and dark, Consecrate, valorous, serious, true, Then on the world I may blazon my mark; And what if I don't, and what if I do?