There is an Easter sense in which all things are made new in the risen Christ. A tiny gleam of this is reflected in all true art.

After all, damn it, what does being in love mean if you can't trust a person.

Then I knew that the sign I had asked for was not a little thing, not a passing nod of recognition, and a phrase came back to me from my childhood of the veil of the temple being rent from top to bottom.

Don't hold your parents up to contempt. After all, you are their son, and it is just possible that you may take after them.

The anguished suspense of watching the lips you hunger for, framing the words, the death sentence, of sheer triteness!

Never get mixed up in a Welsh wrangle. It doesn't end in blows like an Irish one, but goes on forever.

You can't ever tell what's going to hurt people.