It is a joy to be choked with thought.

A writer is in the broadest sense a spokesman of his community. Through him that community comes to know its heart. Without such knowledge, how long can it survive?

...is the carbon molecule lined with thought?

From Euclid to Newton there were straight lines. The modern age analyzes the wavers.

I have begun in old age to understand...that we seldom if ever realize how generous we are to ourselves, and just how stingy with others.

Let the enemies of life step down.

In here, the human bosom -- mine, yours, everybody's -- there isn't just one soul. There's a lot of souls. But there are two main ones, the real soul and a pretender soul. Now! Every man realizes that he has to love something or somebody. He feels that he must go outward. 'If thou canst not love, what art thou?' Are you with me?