You tell me these two were my parents, so now I know but it's a memory that you've given me. I'll remember the photo from now on, but not them.

We live for books.

The light in her eyes was beyond description, yet it did not instill improper thoughts: it inspired a love tempered by awe, purifying the hearts it inflamed.

New Orleans is not in the grip of a neurosis of a denied past; it passes out memories generously like a great lord; it doesn't have to pursue "the real thing."

We are never racist against somebody who is very far away. I don't know any racism against the Eskimos. To have a racist feeling, there must be an other who is slightly different from us - but is living close to us.

Show not what has been done, but what can be. How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths.

Yesterday's rose endures in its name, we hold empty names.