Against the ruin of the world, there is only one defense: the creative act.
You don't become a saint until you lead a good life whether in Tibet or Italy or America.
Man thrives where angels would die of ecstasy and where pigs would die of disgust.
It takes great labor to uncover the convincing simple speech of the heart. Poetic candor comes with hard labor, so even does impetuosity and impudence.
Maturity is having the ability to escape categorization.
Crooked cards and straight whiskey, Slow horses and fast women.