I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one's own body.

All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you. Especially do all stories of monogamy end in death, and your man who is monogamous while he often lives most happily, dies in the most lonely fashion.

I wish I had died before I ever loved anyone but her.

In modern war... you will die like a dog for no good reason.

Any man's life, told truly, is a novel.

It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them.

Everything that a painter did or that a writer wrote was a part of his training and preparation for what he was to do.