That ... is how the world moves: Not like an arrow, but a boomerang.

America is woven of many strands. I would recognize them and let it so remain.

My hole is warm and full of light.

In those days it was either live with music or die with noise, and we chose rather desperately to live.

You start Saul, and end up Paul,' my grandfather had often said. 'When you're a youngun, you Saul, but let life whup your head a bit and you starts to trying to be Paul - though you still Sauls around on the side.

It is sometimes advantageous to be unseen, although it is most often rather wearing on the nerves.

I am an invisible man. No, I am not a spook like those who haunted Edgar Allan Poe; nor am I one of your Hollywood-movie ectoplasms.