Gertrude Stein did us the most harm when she said, 'You're all a lost generation.' That got around to certain people and we all said, 'Whee! We're lost.

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 had a shiny gun I could have a world of fun Speeding bullets through the brains Of the folks that cause me pains :)

There was nothing separate about her days. Like drops on the window-pane, they ran together and trickled away.

I wish, I wish I were a poisonous bacterium.

Like many a better one before me, I have gone down under the force of numbers, under the books and books and books that keep coming out and coming out and coming out, shoals of them, spates of them, flash floods of them, too blame many books, and no sign of an end.

Now, look, baby, 'Union' is spelled with 5 letters. It is not a four-letter word.