The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness.

When you're a child you're the center of everything. Everything happens for you. Other people? They're only ghosts furnished for you to talk to.

Again it might have been the American tendency in travel. One goes, not so much to see but to tell afterward.

One man was so mad at me that he ended his letter, "Beware. You will never get out of this world alive."

No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself.

Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.

A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.