Failure too is a form of death.
What happens if you drop all the things that make you I?
I had been afraid of the primitive, had wanted it broken gently, but here it came on us in a breath, as we stumbled up through the dung and the cramped and stinking huts to our lampless sleeping place...
I don't care a damn about men who are loyal to the people who pay them, to organizations...I don't think even my country means all that much. There are many countries in our blood, aren't there, but o...
He disapproved, he didn't believe in girls drinking, he was full of the conventions of a generation older than himself. Of course one drank oneself, one fornicated, but one didn't lie with a friend's...
To each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as a pain in the memory...
one gets so hopelessly tired of deception.
Human nature is not black and white but black and grey.
A black boy brought Wilson's gin and he sipped it very slowly because he had nothing else to do except to return to his hot and squalid room and read a novel - or a poem. Wilson liked poetry, but he a...
In my school, he thought, they learn bitterness and frustration and how to grow old.
How often the priest had heard the same confession--Man was so limited: he hadn't even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the mor...
Every monologue sooner or later becomes a discussion.
Sooner or later...one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.
Perhaps we are all fictions, father, in the mind of God.
But she wouldn't pray, she took what comfort and credit she could for not praying; it wasn't that one disbelieved in prayer; one never lost all one's belief in magic. It was that she preferred to plan...
It is impossible to go through life without trust: that is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.
What are others worth that they have the nerve to sneer at any human being?
Despair is the price one pays for setting himself an impossible aim.
the sense of a small courageous community barely existing above the desert of trees, hemmed in by a sun too fierce to work under and a darkness filled with evil spirits - love was an arm round the nec...
No human being can really understand another, and no one can arrange another's happiness.