How fragile we are under the sheltering sky. Behind the sheltering sky is a vast dark universe, and we're just so small.

If people and their manner of living were alike everywhere, there would not be much point in moving from one place to another.

That was what he wanted, to be baked dry and hard, to feel the vaporous worries evaporating one by one, to know finally that all the damp little doubts and hesitations that covered the floor of his being were curling up and expiring in the great furnace-blast of the sun.

Although I knew enough Freud to believe that the sex urge was an important mainspring of life, it still seemed to me that any conscious manifestation of sex was necessarily ludicrous. Defecation and copulation were two activities which made a human being totally ridiculous. At least the former could be conducted in private, but the latter by definition demanded a partner. I discovered, though, that whenever I ventured this opinion, people took it as a joke.

The sky hides the night behind it and shelters the people beneath from the horror that lies above.

She was saved from prettiness by the intensity of her gaze.

Life is lived only once. And the less seriously the better.