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.

You must not forget that a monster is only a variation, and that to a monster the norm is monstrous.

It's one of the great fallacies, it seems to me, that time gives much of anything but years and sadness to man.

No story has power, nor will it last, unless we feel in ourselves that it is true and true of us.

I suppose our capacity for self-delusion is boundless.

But Doc had one mental habit he could not get over. When anyone asked a question, Doc thought he wanted to know the answer.

What do I want in a doctor? Perhaps more than anything else-a friend with special knowledge.