I saw him open his mouth wide. . . as though he had wanted to swallow all the air, all the earth, all the men before him.

They had behind them, to my mind, the terrific suggestiveness of words heard in dreams, of phrases spoken in nightmares.

A man is a worker. If he is not that he is nothing.

Even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violence--but more generally takes the form of apathy

I am afraid that if you want to go down into history you'll have to do something for it.

It made you feel very small, very lost, and yet it was not altogether depressing, that feeling. After all, if you were small, the grimy beetle crawled on - which was just what you wanted it to do.

It is my belief no man ever understands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the grim shadow of self knowledge.