In a free country it is the duty of writers to pay no attention to duty.

I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.

It is a miracle that New York works at all. The whole thing is implausible.

I am still encouraged to go on. I wouldn't know where else to go.

Before the seed there comes the thought of bloom.

The time not to become a father is eighteen years before a war.

Is there anything in the universe more beautiful and protective than the simple complexity of a spider's web?