It is one of the strongest bonds, I think, that can spring up between people: sharing a passion for certain books and their authors.

I suspected, however, that I wasn't homesick for anything I would find at home when I returned. The longing was for what I wouldn't find: the past and all the people and places there were lost to me.

And who's to say that just because something lasts only a short time, it has little value?

I suppose that, after the passion of love, water rights have caused more trouble than anything else to the human species.

All writing is filth

Dallas, is it remotely possible for you to carry on a conversation that's not loaded down with manure?

5 mins after your birth, they decide your name, nationality, religion & sect & you spend rest of your life defending something you didn't choose.

Dialogue in fiction should be reserved for the culminating moments and regarded as the spray into which the great wave of narrative breaks in curving towards the watcher on the shore.

the temperaments of children are often as oddly unsuited to parents as if capricious fairies had been filling cradles with changelings.

The most fundamental tragedy of my life is that the ones who I see do not exist and the one who exists I do not see.

Anger is like fire. It burns all clean.

We are fully human only while playing, and we play only when we are human in the truest sense of the word.

To discover the real you, look at what you spend time thinking about when no one is looking.

And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!