No passion is stronger in the breast of a man than the desire to make others believe as he believes. Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high.

Women and fiction remain, so far as I am concerned, unsolved problems.

I am rooted, but I flow.

Am I a weed, carried this way, that way, on a tide that comes twice a day without a meaning?

At any rate, when a subject is highly controversial-and any question about sex is that-one cannot hope to tell the truth. One can only show how one came to hold whatever opinion one does hold.

There is something I want-something I have come to get, and she fell deeper and deeper without knowing quite what it was, with her eyes closed.

Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.