It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.

[O]ne of the mixed blessings of being twenty and twenty-one and even twenty-three is the conviction that nothing like this, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, has ever happened before.

The apparent ease of California life is an illusion, and those who believe the illusion will live here in only the most temporary way.

On the August night in 1933 when General Gerardo Machado, then president of Cuba, flew out of Havana into exile, he took with him five revolvers, seven bags of gold, and five friends, still in their pajamas.

We are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.

Despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, [the death of a parent] dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and may cut free memories and feelings that we thought had gone to ground long ago. We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and now far, buffeting us with recollections.

To have that sense of one's intrinsic worth which constitutes self-respect is potentially to have everything.