A man can look upon his life and accept it as good or evil; it is far, far harder for him to confess that it has been unimportant in the sum of things.

The fates have a way of demanding of a man that he suffer his greatest moments all by himself; being lone seems as often attendant upon reality as being in company is attendant upon the flight from reality.

A neighborhood is where, when you go out of it, you get beat up.

The Communists offer one precious, fatal boon: they take away the sense of sin.

Men very seldom change, try though we will, beneath the shifts of exterior doctrine, our hearts so often remain what they were.

As an organized political group, the Communists have done nothing to damage our society a fraction as much as what their enemies have done in the name of defending us against subversion.

The faces in New York remind me of people who played a game and lost.