Your trust in rationality makes you irrational.

So the whole war is because we can't talk to each other.

The story is one that you and I will construct together in your memory. If the story means anything to you at all, then when you remember it afterward, think of it, not as something I created, but rather as something that we made together.

I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss.

At last he came to a door, with these words in glowing emeralds: THE END OF THE WORLD He did not hesitate. He opened the door and stepped through.

But in the meantime I became accustomed to the writing life and it would be hard to change now - partly because of the salary cut if I went to my other love, teaching; and partly because I still have stories to tell, even though it isn't all that fun doing the work anymore.

His vices were the vices of his time and culture, but his virtues transcended the milieu of his life.