Thought's a luxury. Do you think the peasant sits and thinks of God and Democracy when he gets inside his mud hut at night?

In the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship.

When I replied that I loved her too in that way, I was the liar, not she, for I never lose the consciousness of time: to me the present is never here: it is always last year or next week.

Hope was an instinct only the reasoning human mind could kill. An animal never knew despair.

There was a tacit understanding between them that 'liquor helped'; growing more miserable with every glass one hoped for the moment of relief.

In human relationships, kindness and lies are worth a thousand truths.

She mixes religion with desertion to make it sound noble.