Ninety feet between the bases is the nearest thing to perfection that man has yet achieved.
I like to get where the cabbage is cooking and catch the scents.
It is well known that the older a man grows, the faster he could run as a boy.
I have known writers who paid no damned attention whatever to the rules of grammar and rhetoric and somehow made the language behave for them.
Dying is no big deal. Living is the trick.
Now it is done. Now the story ends. And there is no way to tell it. The art of fiction is dead. Reality has strangled invention.