The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.

Everyone gets the experience. Some get the lesson.

A book is not harmless merely because no one is consciously offended by it.

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

I gotta use words to talk to you.

Humankind cannot stand reality.

The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way- The Church can sleep and feed at once.