We might remind ourselves that criticism is as inevitable as breathing, and that we should be none the worse for articulating what passes in our minds when we read a book and feel an emotion about it, for criticizing our own minds in their work of criticism.

A thousand policemen directing traffic cannot tell you why you come or where you go.

The young feel tired at the end of an action, the old at the beginning.

The usual dog about the town is much inclined to play the clown.

The last thing one discovers in composing a work is what to put first.

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope, For hope would be hope for the wrong thing.

As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill.