Life was a fool's errand, carrying news to the worms.

The civilization of cities is breeding a new race of monks who have none of the original religious drive towards chastity, but are just incapable of facing the responsibilities of marriage.

once a policy, like a set of steel rails, had been laid down for him by his superiors, his obedience ran along it unswerving.

Life was a fool's errand, carrying news to the worms.

Tragedy is something that happens to a lot of people - it's a tragedy if you react with handwringing.

In the busy city, dying might be resented as a breach of good taste, and the body hastily dispatched to the undertaker and the crematorium; but in Lost Haven, where a man's mates had to turn out and dig his grave, it was an occasion shared by the whole community.

When you can't see any reason for loving a person, you must be loving him as a symbol of something, don't you think so?