Since when do you have to agree with people to defend them from injustice?

Like all former thinkers, I'm writing a book.

Unjust. How many times I've used that word, scolded myself with it. All I mean by it now is that I don't have the final courage to say that I refuse to preside over violations against myself, and to hell with justice.

There are people who eat the earth and eat all the people on it like in the Bible with the locusts. And other people who stand around and watch them eat.

Nobody knows what you want except you, and no one will be as sorry as you if you don't get it.

One sits uncomfortably on a too comfortable cushion.

Nothing you write, if you hope to be good, will ever come out as you first hoped.