Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living?

We are nauseated by the sight of trivial personalities decomposing in the eternity of print.

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels.

She fell into a deep pool of sticky water, which eventually closed over her head. She saw nothing and heard nothing but a faint booming sound, which was the sound of the sea rolling over her head. While all her tormentors thought that she was dead, she was not dead, but curled up at the bottom of the sea.

There is a coherence in things, a stability; something... is immune from change and shines out... in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby.

For the film maker must come by his convention, as painters and writers and musicians have done before him.