I am always saying "Glad to've met you" to somebody I'm not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.

Poets are always taking the weather so personally.

You take a really sleepy man, Esmé, and he always stands a chance of again becoming a man with all his fac — with all his f-a-c-u-l-t-i-e-s intact.

A confessional passage has probably never been written that didn't stink a little bit of the writer's pride in having given up his pride.

If I'd wanted this place to fill up with every fat Irish rose that passes by, I'd've said so.

I don't really deeply feel that anyone needs an airtight reason for quoting from the works of writers he loves, but it's always nice, I'll grant you, if he has one.

Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.