Dying--shucks! If you kin handle the living, what's to be afraid of the dying?

I've been to a lot of places and done a lot of things, but writing was always first. It's a kind of pain I can't do without.

A young man's ambition - to get along in the world and make a place for himself - half your life goes that way, till you're 45 or 50. Then, if you're lucky, you make terms with life, you get released.

You don’t choose a story, it chooses you.

More and more Emerson recedes grandly into history, as the future he predicted becomes a past.

It all began, as I have said, when the Boss, sitting in the black Cadillac which sped through the night, said to me (to Me who was what Jack Burden, the student of history, had grown up to be) "There is always something." And I said, "Maybe not on the Judge." And he said, "Man is conceived in sin and born in corruption and he passeth from the stink of the didie to the stench of the shroud. There is always something.

What if angry vectors veer Round your sleeping head, and form. There's never need to fear Violence of the poor world's abstract storm.