As stupid and vicious as men are, this is a lovely day.

My ancestors came over from Germany about the time of the Civil War and one of them lost a leg and went back to Germany.

Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous.

The darkest secret of this country, I am afraid, is that too many of its citizens imagine that they belong to a much higher civilization somewhere else. That higher civilization doesn’t have to be another country. It can be the past instead—the United States as it was before it was spoiled by immigrants and the enfranchisement of the blacks. This state of mind allows too many of us to lie and cheat and steal from the rest of us, to sell us junk and addictive poisons and corrupting entertainments. What are the rest of us, after all, but sub-human aborigines?

There is this feeling that I have a destiny far away from the shallow and preposterous posing that is our life.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

We'd been apart so long--I'd been dead so long," she said in English. "I thought surely you'd built a new life, with no room in it for me. I'd hoped that." "My life is nothing but room for you." I said. "It could never be filled by anyone but you.