A fallow field is a sin.
We could live offa the fatta the lan'.
With all our horrors and faults, somewhere in us there is a shining.
But most important of all, the truth, that dangerous stuff, became beautiful and more precious.
It would be good to live in a perpetual state of leave-taking, never to go nor to stay, but to remain suspended in that golden emotion of love and longing; to be loved without satiety.
A book is somehow sacred. A dictator can kill and maim people, can sink to any kind of tyranny and only be hated, but when books are burned the ultimate in tyranny has happened. This we cannot forgive.