Everything is generated through your own will power.

If you're reluctant to weep, you won't live a full and complete life.

You don't organize metaphors . . . you explode them.

You've been put on the world to love the act of being alive.

I would not see our candle blown out in the wind. It is a small thing, this dear gift of life handed us mysteriously out of immensity. I would not have that gift expire... If I seem to be beating a dead horse again and again, I must protest: No! I am beating, again and again, living man to keep him awake and move his limbs and jump his mind... What's the use of looking at Mars through a telescope, sitting on panels, writing books, if it isn't to guarantee, not just the survival of mankind, but mankind surviving forever!

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again.

Way out in the country tonight he could smell the pumpkins ripening toward the knife and the triangle eye and the singeing candle.