Without rain, there would be no life.
Many men are more faithful to their golf partners than to their wives and have stuck with them longer.
All blessings are mixed blessings.
There was clearly great charm and worth in a sport so quaintly perverse in its basic instructions. Hit down to make the ball rise. Swing easy to make it go far. Finish high to make it go straight.
Bankruptcy is a sacred state, a condition beyond conditions, as theologians might say, and attempts to investigate it are necessarily obscene, like spiritualism. One knows only that he has passed into it and lives beyond us, in a condition not ours.
The other sad truth about golf spectatorship is that for today’s pros it all comes down to the putting, and that the difference between a putt that drops and one that rims the cup, though teleologically enormous, is intellectually negligeable.
In no other sport must the spectator move.
Revolution is just one crowd taking power from another.
From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and few.
Time is our element, not a mistaken invader.
The great thing about the dead, they make space.
Figure out where you’re going before you go there: he was told that a long time ago.
Sun and moon, sun and moon, time goes.
The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves. The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown.
Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that’s the stuff life is made of. Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.
The measure of artistic merit is the length to which a writer is willing to go in following his own compulsions.
You cannot help but learn more as take the world into your hands. Take it up reverently, for it is and old piece of clay, with millions of thumbprints on it.
Life is like an overlong drama through which we sit being nagged by the vague memories of having read the reviews.
What would men be without women? Scarce, sir, mighty scarce. Mark Twain Women are an alien race set down among us.
Among the repulsions of atheism for me has been its drastic un-interestingness as an intellectual position. Where was the ingenuity, the ambiguity, the humanity of saying that the universe just happened to happen and that when we’re dead we’re dead?