The books I read are the ones I knew and loved when I was a young man and to which I return as you do to old friends.
The writer's only responsibility is to his art.
Only when the clock stops does time come to life
Perhaps they were right putting love into books. Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.
The scattered tea goes with the leaves and every day a sunset dies.
You don't dare think whole even to yourself the entirety of a dear hope or wish let alone a desperate one else you yourself have doomed it.