I have owed you this letter for a very long time-but my fingers have avoided the pencil as though it were an old and poisoned tool.

Man himself has become our greatest hazard and our only hope. So that today, St. John the apostle may well be paraphrased: In the end is the Word, and the Word is Man - and the Word is with Men.

We can shoot rockets into space but we can't cure anger or discontent.

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

Luck, you see, brings bitter friends.

Lennie said quietly, "It ain't no lie. We're gonna do it. Gonna get a little place an' live on the fatta the lan'.

Then it is better, sir, to love whom one cannot have?" "Probably better," Lancelot said. "Certainly safer.