You're looking, sir, at a very dull survivor of a very gaudy life. Crippled, paralyzed in both legs. Very little I can eat, and my sleep is so near waking that it's hardly worth the name. I seem to exist largely on heat, like a newborn spider.

It's not when you realize that nothing can help you — religion, pride, anything — it's when you realize that you don't need any aid.

Where the shadow of the bridge fell I could see down for a long way, but not as far as the bottom. When you leave a leaf in water a long time after awhile the tissue will be gone and the delicate fibres waving slow as the motion of sleep. They don't touch one another, no matter how knotted up they once were, no matter how close they lay once to the bones.

People need trouble - a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it.

When the switch fell I could feel it upon my flesh; when it welted and ridged it was my blood that ran, and I would think with each blow of the switch: Now you are aware of me! Now I am something in your secret and selfish life, who have marked your blood with my own for ever and ever.

The writer in America isn't part of the culture of this country. He's like a fine dog. People like him around, but he's of no use.

I suppose that people, using themselves and each other so much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to a still tongue.