I wish you would add an index rerum, that when the reader recollects any incident he may easily find it.
There's not a strong autobiographical strain in my fiction. A few bits of fact here and there.
And I sat there getting drunker and drunker and more in love and more in love. . . And you can never touch a girl in the same way more than once, twice, or another number of times however much you may wish to hold, wrap, or otherwise fix her hand, or look, or some other quality, or incident, known to you previously.
The death of God left the angels in a strange position.
The best way to live is by not knowing what will happen to you at the end of the day.
--Why are we fighting them? --They're mad. We're sane. --How do we know? --That we're sane? --Yes. --Am I sane? --To all appearances. --And you, do you consider yourself sane? --I do. --Well, there you have it. --But don't they also consider themselves sane? --I think they know. Deep down. That they're not sane. --How must that make them feel? --Terrible, I should think. They must fight ever more fiercely, in order to deny what they know to be true. That they are not sane.
Now, here is the point about the self: it is insatiable. It is always, always hankering. It is what you might call rapacious to a fault. The great flaming mouth to the thing is never in this world going to be stuff full.
We should acknowledge God merciful, but not always for us comprehensible.
IT IS NOT COINCIDENCE THAT AT BARCELONA WE HAVE LOW-KEY LIFESTYLES AND WE HAVE BEEN SUCCESSFUL. WE KNOW WE ARE FOOTBALL PLAYERS AND NOT MOVIE STARS.
Learn what pitch you can hit good; then wait for that pitch.
Wisdom is knowing what to do next; virtue is doing it.