At fourteen you don't need sickness or death for tragedy.

Justice is a terrible but necessary thing.

You make what seems a simple choice: choose a man or a job or a neighborhood- and what you have chosen is not a man or a job or a neighborhood, but a life.

Writing is a solitary occupation. Family, friends, and society are the natural enemies of the writer. He must be alone, uninterrupted, and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking.

With enough libraries, all content is free.

The sick soon come to understand that they live in a different world from that of the well and that the two cannot communicate.

A religious awakening which does not awaken the sleeper to love has roused him in vain.