The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.

If after I read a poem the world looks like that poem for 24 hours or so I'm sure it's a good one—and the same goes for paintings.

Sometimes it seemsas though only intelligent people are stupid enough to fall in love & only stupid people are intelligent enough to let themselves be loved.

Someone loves us all.

Heaven is not like flying or swimming, but has something to do with blackness and a strong glare.

I HATED the Salinger story. It took me days to go through it, gingerly, a page at a time, and blushing with embarrassment for him every ridiculous sentence of the way. How can they let him do it?

Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?