What do you think of that? It’s stopped raining." I’m glad Jay." Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told only of her unexpected joy.

I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.

I guess I'm the Black Death,' he said slowly. 'I don't seem to bring people happiness any more.

A big man has no time really to do anything but just sit and be big.

To create souls in men, to create fine happiness and fine despair she must remain deeply proud - proud to be inviolate, proud also to be melting, to be passionate and possessed.

A new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken...

In short, you have only your emotions to sell. This is the experience of all writers.