It's hard... to shake off something that's already under your skin.

Life's too slippery for books, Clarice; anger appears as lust, lupus presents as hives.

We routinely leave our small children in day care among strangers. At the same time, in our guilt we evince paranoia about strangers and foster fear in children.

The worm that destroys you is the temptation to agree with your critics, to get their approval.

Because it's his bad luck to be the best.

He moves smoothly and slowly, carrying his concentration like a brimming cup.

The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted.