It is the hour of pearl—the interval between day and night when time stops and examines itself.

Trips to fairly unknown regions should be made twice; once to make mistakes and once to correct them.

If we could learn even a little to like ourselves, maybe our cruelties and angers might melt away.

I believe there are techniques of the human mind whereby, in its dark deep, problems are examined, rejected or accepted. Such activities sometimes concern facets a man does not know he has. How often one goes to sleep troubled and full of pain, not knowing what causes the travail, and in the morning a whole new direction and a clearness is there, maybe the results of the black reasoning. And again there are mornings when ecstasy bubbles in the blood, and the stomach and chest are tight and electric with joy, and nothing in the thoughts to justify it or cause it.

I nearly always write — just as I nearly always breathe.

You got to live before you can afford to die.

Can you honestly love a dishonest thing?