Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.
Your blood coagulates beautifully.
Thou wilt go now, rabbit. But I go with thee. As long as there is one of us there is both of us.
There isnt always an explanation for everything.
And this was the price you paid for sleeping together.
Imagination? It is the one thing beside honesty that a good writer must have. The more he learns from experience the more he can imagine.
Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.
I did not understand them but they did not have any mystery, and when I understood them they meant nothing to me. I was sorry about this but there was nothing I could do about it.
I thought that all generations were lost by something and always had been and always would be.
Going to another country doesn’t make any difference. I’ve tried all that. You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that.
You should only read what is truly good or what is frankly bad.
Oh, darling, I’ve been so miserable.
But after I got them to leave and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn’t any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.
It’s all nonsense. It’s only nonsense. I’m not afraid of the rain. I am not afraid of the rain. Oh, oh, God, I wish I wasn’t.
Something, or something awful or something wonderful was certain to happen on every day in this part of Africa.
Bigotry is an odd thing. To be bigoted you have to be absolutely sure you are right and nothing makes that surety and righteousness like continence. Continence is the foe of heresy.
Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.
He had loved too much, demanded too much, and he wore it all out.
In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die.
A wine shop was open and I went in for some coffee. It smelled of early morning, of swept dust, spoons in coffee-glasses and the wet circles left by wine glasses.