Words fashioned with somewhat over precise diction are like shapes turned out by a cookie cutter.

Everybody hates me because I'm so universally liked.

I think people love each other a little more than they hate each other ... Love has a slim hold on the human corporation, like fifty-one per cent, but it's enough.

When I see a paragraph shrinking under my eyes like a strip of bacon in a skillet, I know I'm on the right track.

The value of marriage is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults.

All couples must bear the strain of getting acquainted, having been, up to then, merely intimate.

What baffles me is the comfort people find in the idea that somebody dealt this mess. Blind and meaningless chance seems to me so much more congenial - or at least less horrible. Prove to me that there is a God and I will really begin to despair.