I'll tell you something. Once I was very fond of a poem by Emily Dickinson or somebody. I only remember one line of it, but it goes, 'The soul selects her own society.' I used to tell it to everybody. Once I quoted it to a friend of mine, and he said, 'Maybe, but the body gets thrown into bed with the goddamnedest people.

Wisdom is finding joy in bewilderment

But I still feel I waste a lot of time leaning on my elbow and thinking to myself, 'alright sucker, now what?'

Haggard, I would not be you for all the world," he declared. "You have let your doom in by the front door, although it will not depart that way. (...) Farewell, poor Haggard, farewell!

Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose-- What is gone is gone.

You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.

The magician stood erect, menacing the attackers with demons, metamorphoses, paralyzing ailments, and secret judo holds. Molly picked up a rock.