From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the earth and rotted; and nobody knew why.

Now I understood that the same road was to bring us together again. Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past.

A creative writer can do his best only with what lies within the range and character of his deepest sympathies.

Nothing mattered ... but writing books, and living the kind of life that made it possible to write them.

The summer moon hung full in the sky. For the time being it was the great fact of the world.

Oh, the Germans classify, but the French arrange.

Today I stood taller from walking among the trees.