Life is already too short to waste on speed.

Proverbs save us the trouble of thinking. What we call folk wisdom is often no more than a kind of expedient stupidity.

My sole literary ambition is to write one good novel, then retire to my hut in the desert, assume the lotus position, compose my mind and senses, and sink into meditation, contemplating my novel.

I want my body to help fertilize the growth of a cactus or cliff rose or sagebrush or tree.

Nature, like Maimonides said, is mainly a good place to throw beer cans on Sunday afternoons.

Beware of your wishes: They will probably come true.

Only a fool would leave the enjoyment of rainbows to the opticians. Or give the science of optics the last word on the matter.