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...
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...
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...
We are all of us resigned to death: it's life we aren't resigned to.
He wasn't a patient. I expect someone cured him. You cure a lot of people in this country, don't you, with bullets?
As long as one suffers one lives.
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...
It is impossible to go through life without trust: that is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.
You don't bless what you love...It's when you want to love and you can't manage it. You stretch out your hands and you say God forgive me that I can't love but bless this thing anyway...We have to ble...
Did you find anything special?' Blackie asked.T. nodded. 'Come over here,' he said, 'and look.' Out of both pockets he drew bundles of pound notes. 'Old Misery's savings,' he said. 'Mike ripped out th...
Human nature is not black and white but black and grey.
What are others worth that they have the nerve to sneer at any human being?
If I were writing a novel I would end it here: a novel, I used to think, has to end somewhere, but I'm beginning to believe my realism has been at fault all these years, for nothing in life now ever s...
Human love can be only a pale reflection of the emotion that God must feel for what He has created
No human being can really understand another, and no one can arrange another's happiness.
You know what the fellow said – in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In...
Innocence is a kind of insanity
one gets so hopelessly tired of deception.