We travel, initially, to lose ourselves, and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again—to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more.

The Lord is not serious. In fact, it is a little hard to know just what else He is except loving. And love has to do with humor, doesn't it? For you cannot love someone unless you put up with him, can you? And you cannot put up with someone constantly unless you can laugh at him. Isn't that true? And certainly we are rediculous little animals wallowing in the fudge bowl, and God must love us all the more because we appeal to his humor.

Day, after day, after glorious day, I was falling in love with books.

Those who don't build must burn. It's as old as history and juvenile delinquents.

You can write a short story in two hours. Two hours a day, you have a novel in a year

That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts.

I don't talk things, sir. I talk the meaning of things.