I believe that there is another man inside of every man, a stranger, a Conniving Man.
Oh, I suppose all men of intelligence know how fragile such things as Law and Justice and Civilization really are, but it’s not a thing they think of willingly, because it disturbs one’s rest and plays hob with one’s appetite.
Sorry is the KoolAid of human emotions.
Because it makes me happy when the words fall together and the picture comes and the make-believe people do things that delight me. But it’s better with you, Constant Reader. Always better with you.
I’m going out for a bottle of champagne. We’re going to get bombed.
A man who loves money is a bastard, someone to be hated. A man who can’t take care of it is a fool. You don’t hate him, but you got to pity him.
The gunslinger waited for the time of the drawing and dreamed his long dreams of the Dark Tower, to which he would some day come at dusk and approach, winding his horn, to do some unimaginable final battle.
He just kept picking them up and laying them down.
Art should be a place of hope, not doubt. And your doubts rise from inexperience, which is not a dishonorable thing.
Nope, nothing wrong here.
Free at last, he thought. Great God Almighty, I’m free at last. Then: I believe this is redemption. And it’s good, isn’t it? Quite good, indeed.
A man who doubts himself shouldn’t have to try too hard for too long, not until he’s seasoned.
They say bachelors have all the fun. Not so. You just get old and full of sand, nasty.
And what do you do when you can’t use anger to fall back on? You admit the truth.
We’re all dying. The world’s just a hospice with fresh air.
God favors drunks, small children, and the cataclysmically stoned...
I go back to it, if only to remind myself that life isn’t always a butcher’s game. Sometimes the prizes are real. Sometimes they’re precious.
The prosaic fact of the universe’s existence alone defeats both the pragmatist and the romantic.
The technological society has walked off the court, so to speak, but they’ve left all the basketballs behind. Someone will come along who remembers the game and teach it to the rest again.
They discuss the characters as though they were living people, and ask frequently, ‘What happened to so-and-so?’... as if I got letters from them every now and again.