Love makes the air light.

The fact that we still live well cannot ease the feeling that we no longer live nobly.

The muttered hint, "Remember, you have a stroke here," freezes my joints like a blast from Siberia.

I'm willing to show good taste, if I can, in somebody else's living room, but our reading life is too short for a writer to be in any way polite. Since his words enter into another's brain in silence and intimacy, he should be as honest and explicit as we are with ourselves.

What would men be without women? Scarce, sir, mighty scarce. Mark Twain Women are an alien race set down among us.

The essential self is innocent, and when it tastes its own innocence knows that it lives for ever.

All love is betrayal, in that it flatters life. The loveless man is best armed.