Nothing so completely verifies our perception of a thing as our killing of it.

I still maintain that an ordinary human being has the right to be horrified by a mangled body seen on an afternoon walk.

Think of any great man or woman. How can you separate them from the years in which they lived? You can't. Their greatness lies in their response to that moment.

Complaints about reality are immature.

There are no beginnings, not even to stories. There are only places where you make an entrance into someone else's life and either stay or turn and go away.

The spaces between the perceiver and the thing perceived can [...] be closed with a shout of recognition.

People can only be found in what they do.