I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.

We're each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark?

There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories.

Translation is entirely mysterious. Increasingly I have felt that the art of writing is itself translating, or more like translating than it is like anything else

In war everybody is a prisoner.

A moral choice in its basic terms appears to be a choice that favors survival: a choice made in favor of life.

We scarcely know how much of our pleasure and interest in life comes to us through our eyes until we have to do without them; and part of that pleasure is that the eyes can choose where to look. But the ears can't choose where to listen.