There has been only one Christian. They caught and curcified him-early.

That is the way we are made: we don't reason, where we feel; we just feel.

Grief can take care if itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.

If the man doesn't believe as we do, we say he is a crank, and that settles it. I mean, it does nowadays, because now we can't burn him.

When a man stands on the verge of seventy-two you know perfectly well that he never reached that place without knowing what this life is - heartbreaking bereavement.

When one has tasted watermelon he knows what the angels eat.

Suddenly the nickel-clad horse takes the bit in its mouth and goes slanting for the curbstone defying all prayers and all your powers to change its mind - your heart stands still, your breath hangs fire, your legs forget to work.