It is the tale, not he who tells it.
To weepe for joy is a kinde of Manna.
Prayer should be the key of the day and the lock of the night.
He that hath not the craft, let him shut up shop.
A discontented man knowes not where to sit easie.
He that commits a fault, thinkes every one speakes of it. [He that commits a fault thinks everyone speaks of it. ]
Thou who hast given so much to me, give me one more thing. . . a grateful heart!
People change. I wouldn't like to be accountable for the interviews I've done, or the person I was when I was 20, 21.
War is a curtain of dense black fabric across all the hopes and kindliness of mankind. Yet always it has let through some gleams of light, and not--I am not dreaming--it grows threadbare, and here and there and at a thousand points the light is breaking through.
From the town of Lincoln Nebraska with a sawed off. 410 on my lap, through the Badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path.
No one really understands the grief or joy of another.