. . . but the Universe is an awfully big place. There is room enough for an awful lot of people to be right about things and still not agree.
Never schedule a board meeting on Wednesday because it kills two weekends.
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
People need good lies. There are too many bad ones.
Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?
It pains me even now, even a million years later, to write about such human misbehaviour. A million years later, I feel like apologizing for the human race. That’s all I can say.