I did not understand them but they did not have any mystery, and when I understood them they meant nothing to me. I was sorry about this but there was nothing I could do about it.

Something, or something awful or something wonderful was certain to happen on every day in this part of Africa.

The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.

Only that which makes you feel bad after doing is immoral.

You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?

It is impossible to believe the emotional and spiritual intensity and pure, classic beauty that can be produced by a man, an animal, and a piece of scarlet serge draped over a stick.

For a poet he threw a very accurate milk bottle.