Authors do not supply imaginations.
I feel like the oldest person in the world with the longest stretch of life before me.
Lies, injustice, and hypocrisy are a part of every ordinary community. Most people achieve a sort of protective immunity, a kind of callousness, toward them. If they didn't, they couldn't endure.
I think being a mother is the cruelest thing in the world.
New York's the lonesomest place in the world if you don't know anybody.
What are friends for, if not to help bear our sins?