She liked things that had been written by people who had lived short, ugly, and tragic lives. Or, who at least, were English.

Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.

I mean, when the world comes for your children, with the knives out, it's your job to stand in the way.

Don't believe everything you hear today

I will die like a true-blue rebel. Don't waste any time in mourning - organize.

All the world is made of music. We are all strings on a lyre. We resonate. We sing together.

The best way to get even with anyone is to put them in the rearview mirror on your way to something better.

I will be waiting by candlelight in our tree house of the mind.

Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?

If the workers took a notion they could stop all speeding trains; every ship upon the ocean they can tie with mighty chains.

But God fears women even more that He fears the devil- and is right to. She, with her power to bring life into the world, was truly made in the image of the Creator, not man.

The death of God left the angels in a strange position.

It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us; it is the very sign of His presence.

A nation's path to greatness lies in its economic prowess and ... militarism, empire, and aggression lead to a dead end.

He's a werewolf! That's why he's been missing classes!

If ambitious fantasies make people blush, and sexual fantasies make people blush and feel guilty, fantasies of violence and death may make people blush and feel guilty-and frightened too.

Collective human actions are transforming, even ravaging, the biosphere - perhaps irreversibly - through global warming and loss of biodiversity.

I never saw him fight. I never saw Billy fight.

That nothing is static or fixed, that all is fleeting and impermanent, is the first mark of existence. Everything is in process.

I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to summers in Maine.

Madam Life's a piece in bloom Death goes dogging everywhere: she's the tenant of the room, he's the ruffian on the stair.