I'm like the trunk of a cactus... I take in a dose of culture and time with friends, then I retreat and go live on it for awhile until I get thirsty again.

It has always been on the written page that the world has come into focus for me.

I have been standing on the side of life, watching it float by. I want to swim in the river. I want to feel the current. -Loving Frank

What did a person need to survive? Food. Water. Shelter. Warmth in cold weather. And something else... books.

It's wonderful to feel desired. There's a sense of power in it, really.

I always use primary sources, in addition to reading biographies and other materials.

It's not good to live so much inside oneself. It's a self-imposed exile, really. It makes you different.

In the end, what really matters? Only kindness. Only making somebody a little happier for your presence.

Tell her happiness is just practice, " he said. "If only she acted happy, she would be happy.

As he watches the sun rise, what grieves him is that he failed her. He thinks of the terror she felt. They tell him it was quick, as if that will somehow confine the horror.

She got up from the bed, knelt beside the bed, and put her forehead down on the covers. She was not practiced at prayer anymore. The only word that came to mind was "please".

Lord, my life is but a mist (James 4:14), yet through Your power, the things I give myself to can have an eternal impact. I am Your vessel

This was not [him]. It was a thing, with all the [him]-ness gone from it. Death takes the person and leaves his shell behind, like a hollowed-out tree.

It is simple nonsense to speak of the fixed tempo of any particular vocal phrase. Each voice has its peculiarities.

Well, I had said to my friends, it's going to be good, but I bet it's going to be cheesy in a way. And I didn't think that at all. It's so good and was just so funny.

There are various orders of beauty, causing men to make fools of themselves in various styles.

Man lives in a world of surmise, of mystery, of uncertainties.

I wasn't sure if the word boys should mean dim or incomprehensible. I was hovering between the two, with a healthy dose of testosterone-poisoned.

Blue uniforms are real. Cops are a social fiction

The reality we can put into words is never reality itself.

You may take the most gallant sailor, the most intrepid airman, or the most audacious soldier, put them at a table together- what do you get? The sum of their fears.