She's very pretty but she's honey from the icebox, if you know what I mean. Cold sweets won't spread.

Live or die but don't poison everything.

My face too blind, my mind too limited, my instincts too narrow. But this intensity, doesn't it mean anything?

The spirit knows that its growth is the real aim of existence.

He believed that he must, that he could and would recover the good things, the happy things, the easy tranquil things of life. He had made mistakes, but he could overlook these. He had been a fool, but that could be forgiven. The time wasted--must be relinquished. What else could one do about it? Things were too complex, but they might be reduced to simplicity again. Recovery was possible.

Each man has his own batch of poems.

There is only one way to defeat the enemy, and that is to write as well as one can. The best argument is an undeniably good book.