It's the quality of harmony, sir. The quality of being in harmony with you own soul. God having given you your own soul you are then in harmony with Heaven.

Ford's last Fifth Queen novel is amazing. The whole cycle is a noble conception.

Higher than the beasts, lower than the angels, stuck in our idiot Eden.

He wouldn't write a letter because he couldn't without beginning it 'Dear Sylvia' and ending it 'Yours sincerely' or 'truly' or 'affectionately.' He's that sort of precise imbecile. I tell you he's so formal he can't do without all the conventions there are and so truthful he can't use half of them.

Why can't people have what they want? The things were all there to content everybody; yet everybody has the wrong thing.

If you're going to have a character appear in a story long enough to sell a newspaper, he'd better be real enough that you can smell his breath.

I know nothing - nothing in the world - of the hearts of men. I only know that I am alone - horribly alone.