I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.

In literary criticism the critic has no choice but to make over the victim of his attention into something the size and shape of himself.

The sale of souls to gain the whole world is completely voluntary and almost unanimous...but not quite.

He said, "I am a man," and that meant certain things to Juana. It meant that he was half insane and half god.

Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray, sculptured stones.

People like you to be something, preferably what they are.

Syntax, my lad. It has been restored to the highest place in the republic.