Fun comes hard - like, alas, its prarens, pleasure and happiness, whom we have to pursue.

An exchange occurs between man and woman. Love and thought complete each other in the human pair, and something like an exchange of souls takes place, according to the divine plan.

Because I have become such a solitary, and not in the Aristotelian sense: not a beast, not a god. Rather, a loner troubled by longings, incapable of finding a suitable language and despairing at the impossibility of composing messages in a playable key--as if I no longer understood the codes used by the estimable people who wanted to hear from me and would have so much to reply if only the impediments were taken away.

A good novel is worth more then the best scientific study.

The late philosopher Morris R. Cohen of CCNY was asked by a student in the metaphysics course, Professor Cohen, how do I know that I exist? The keen old prof replied, And who is asking?

A novel is balanced between a few true impressions and the multitude of false ones that make up most of what we call life.

Everybody knows there is no fineness or accuracy of suppression; if you hold down one thing, you hold down the adjoining.