Itt iss Eevill…" "What is going to happen?" "Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!"… "And we’re not alone, you know, children," came Mrs.Whatsit, the comforter. "…some of the best fighters have come from your own planet…" "Who have our fighters been?" Calvin asked. "Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs.Whatsit said. Mrs.Who’s spectacles shone out at them triumphantly. "And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

I'm apt to get drunk on words...Ontology: the word about the essence of things; the word about being.

I do not believe that true optimism can come about except through tragedy.

I think that all artists, regardless of degree of talent, are a painful, paradoxical combination of certainty and uncertainty, of arrogance and humility, constantly in need of reassurance, and yet with a stubborn streak of faith in their own validity no matter what.

Wild nights are my glory!

An artist is someone who cannot rest, who can never rest as long as there is one suffering creature in the world.

It is ... through the world of the imagination which takes us beyond the restrictions of provable fact, that we touch the hem of truth.