I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling

Here lies the sense of literary creation to portray ordinary objects as they will be reflected in kindly mirrors of future times. . . . To find in objects around us the fragrant tenderness that only posterity will discern . . .

The pleasures of writing correspond exactly to the pleasures of reading

Was she really beautiful? Was she at least what they call attractive? She was exasperation, she was torture.

Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me; try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity; let's even smile a little. After all, there is no harm in smiling.

Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.

There are aphorisms that, like airplanes, stay up only while they are in motion.