It is anticipation and recollection that fill the heart—never the sensation of the moment.
The death of an illusion tends to disconcert.
The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.
The most difficult thing about Time, I have learned, is doing it.
Life is full of doors that don't open when you knock, equally spaced amid those that open when you don't want them to.
When you are about to die, a wombat is better than no company at all.