One's favorite book is as elusive as one's favorite pudding.
“It is Fate that I am here,” persisted George. “But you can call it Italy if it makes you less unhappy.”
How do I know what I have to say wntil I see what I have said?
The historian records, but the novelist creates.
Reformers who are obsessed with purity and cannot see that their obsession is impure.
I think - I think - I think how little they think what lies so near them.