But if they don't exist, how can a man see them?
I sometimes have these spells of compulsive truth. But as Lady Macbeth would say, "The fit is momentary."
It is just as much an offense to take offense as it is to give offense.
When you're around the whole Dead scene, they're there as a tribal thing; they're there as part of a rendezvous and a pow-wow.
What we hoped was that we could stop the coming end of the world.
He's got hands so long and white and dainty I think they carved each other out of soap, and sometimes they get loose and glide around in front of him free as two white birds until he notices them and traps them between his knees; it bothers him that he's got pretty hands.