He had a theory, Walt did, that the religious life, and all the agony that goes with it, is just something God sics on people who have the gall to accuse Him of having created an ugly world.

He seemed unaware of the messiness of the arrangement.

I didn't want any degrees if all the ill-read literates and radio announcers and pedagogical dummies I knew had them by the peck.

The cards are stacked (quite properly, I imagine) against all professional aesthetes, and no doubt we all deserve the dark, wordy, academic deaths we all sooner or later die.

This is God's universe, buddy, not yours, and he has the final say about what's ego and what isn't.

She wrote to him fairly regularly, from a paradise of triple exclamation points and inaccurate observations.

Then again you may pick up just enough education to hate people who say, 'It's a secret between he and I.'