Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness.

Claude Wheeler opened his eyes before the sun was up and vigorously shook his younger brother, who lay in the other half of the same bed.

Where there is great love there are always miracles.

This land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks things to pieces.

The trees and shrubbery seemed well-groomed and social, like pleasant people.

What if - what if Life itself were the sweetheart?

life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.