If there was anything at all in the Book, anything of hope and peace for His blind and bewildered spawn which He had chosen above all others to offer immortality, THOU SHALT NOT KILL must be it.

What's wrong with this world is, it's not finished yet. It is not completed to that point where man can put his final signature to the job and say, "It is finished. We made it, and it works.

The work never matches the dream of perfection the artist has to start with.

Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything.

Well, Bud," he said, looking at me, "I'll be damned if you don't go to a lot of trouble to have your fun. Kidnapping, then fighting. What do you do on your holidays? Burn houses?

I've got to feel the pencil and see the words at the end of the pencil.

Now she hates me. I have taught her that, at least.