Liza poured thick batter from a pitcher onto a soapstone griddle. The hot cakes rose like little hassocks, and small volcanoes formed and erupted on them until they were ready to be turned. A cheerful brown, they were, with tracings of darker brown. And the kitchen was full of the good sweet smell of them.

The profession of book writing makes horse racing seem like a solid, stable business.

Are cats strange animals or do they so resemble us that we find them curious as we do monkeys?

If you understand each other you will be kind to each other.

They's times when how you feel got to be kep' to yourself.

It is one of the triumphs of the human that he can know a thing and still not believe it.

Literature was not promulgated by a pale and emasculated critical priesthood singing their litanies in empty churches, nor is it a game for the cloistered elect, the tinhorn mendicants of low calorie despair.