Man, unlike anything organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond his work, walks up the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments.

Change was everywhere. People were gone, or changed, and that was almost like being gone.

I shall revenge myself in the cruelest way you can imagine. I shall forget it.

...men in fear and hunger destroy their stomachs in the fight to secure certain food, where men hungering for love destroy everything lovable about them.

We spend our time searching for security and hate it when we get it.

The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or the breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil.

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?