These people yapped loudly of race, of race consciousness, of race pride, and yet suppressed its most delightful manifestations, love of color, joy of rhythmic motion, naive, spontaneous laughter. Harmony, radiance, and simplicity, all the essentials of spiritual beauty in the race they had marked for destructions.

I feel like the oldest person in the world with the longest stretch of life before me.

The trouble with Clare was, not only that she wanted to have her cake and eat it too, but that she wanted to nibble at the cakes of other folk as well.

Everything can't be explained by some general biological phrase.

New York's the lonesomest place in the world if you don't know anybody.

Children aren't everything. There are other things in the world, though I admit some people don't seem to suspect it.

If sex isn't a joke, what is it?