Only the few know the sweetness of the twisted apples.

Everyone knows of the talking artists. Throughout all of the known history of the world they have gathered in rooms and talked. They talk of art and are passionately,almost feverishly, in earnest about it. They think it matters much more than it does.

There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood.

The writing of words can lead to all sorts of absurdities.

I feel that I am writing out of a full life. I am a rich man, rich in men known, in adventures had. I am rich with living.

The machines men are so intent on making have carried them very far from the old sweet things.

I go about looking at horses and cattle. They eat grass, make love, work when they have to, bear their young. I am sick with envy of them.