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

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

How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.

Fiction should always steer clear of political considerations.

Since the world began has any man ever been able to know what would happen tomorrow? The world of men is today. I'm asking you to open your heart today. Tomorrow belongs to Allah.

Because neither she nor Port had ever lived a life of any kind of regularity, they had both made the fatal error of coming hazily to regard time as non-existent. One year was like another year. Eventually everything would happen.

He awoke, opened his eye. The room meant very little to him; he was too deeply immersed in the non-being from which he had just come. If he had not the energy to ascertain his position in time and space, he also lacked the desire. ... In utter comfort, utter relaxation he lay absolutely still for a while, and then sank back into on the the light momentary sleeps that occur after a long, profound one.