It was too nerve-wracking, a shocking spectacle, like seeing an old, calm friend go insane.

Give a critic an inch, he'll write a play.

His ear heard more than what was said to him, and his slow speech had overtones not of thought, but of understanding beyond thought.

I think everyone in the world to a large or small extent has felt rejection. And with rejection comes anger, and with anger some kind of crime in revenge for the rejection, and with the crime guilt- and there is the story of mankind.

This is the thing to bomb. This is the beginning—from "I" to "we". If you who own the things people must have could understand this, you might preserve yourself. If you could separate causes from results, if you could know that Paine, Marx, Jefferson, Lenin were results, not causes, you might survive. But that you cannot know. For the quality of owning freezes you forever into "I", and cuts you off forever from the "we".

There's more beauty in the truth even if it is dreadful beauty.

I find out of long experience that I admire all nations and hate all governments