The city is like poetry; it compresses all life, all races and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines.

A man is not expected to love his country, lest he make an ass of himself. Yet our country, seen through the mists of smog, is curiously lovable, in somewhat the way an individual who has got himself into an unconscionable scrape seems lovable - or at least deserving of support.

Half a man's life is devoted to what he calls improvements, yet the original had some quality which is lost in the process.

Once in everyone's life there is apt to be a period when he is fully awake, instead of half-asleep.

It is Sunday, mid-morning-Sunday in the living room, Sunday in the kitchen, Sunday in the woodshed, Sunday down the road in the village: I hear the bells, calling me to share God's grace.

In order to read one must sit down, usually indoors. I am restless and would rather sail a boat than crack a book. I've never had a very lively literary curiosity, and it has sometimes seemed to me that I am not really a literary fellow at all. Except that I write for a living.

It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.