Now she hates me. I have taught her that, at least.
Most of life is just a preparation for getting ready to be dead for a very long period of time.
She loved him not only in spite of but because he himself was incapable of love.
She was bored. She loved, had capacity to love, for love, to give and accept love. Only she tried twice and failed twice to find somebody not just strong enough to deserve it, earn it, match it, but e...
War is an episode, a crisis, a fever the purpose of which is to rid the body of fever. So the purpose of a war is to end the war.
Women will show pride and honor about almost anything except love ...
I notice how it takes a lazy man, a man that hates moving, to get set on moving once he does get started off, the same as he was set on staying still, like it aint the moving he hates so much as the s...
Here I am I am tired I am tired of running of having to carry my life like it was a basket of eggs
Surely heaven must have something of the color and shape of whatever village or hill or cottage of which the believer says, This is my own.
You can't beat women anyhow and that if you are wise or dislike trouble and uproar you don't even try to.
Sometimes I could put myself to sleep saying that over and over until after the honeysuckle got all mixed up in it the whole thing came to symbolize night and unrest I seemed to be lying neither aslee...
Sometimes I aint so sho who's got ere a right to say when a man is crazy and when he aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks h...
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar...
Love doesn't die; the men and women do.
Maybe nothing ever happens once and is finished. Maybe happen is never once but like ripples maybe on water after the pebble sinks, the ripples moving on, spreading, the pool attached by a narrow umbi...
I don't think anybody can teach anybody anything. I think that you learn it, but the young writer that is as I say demon-driven and wants to learn and has got to write, he don't know why, he will lear...
He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary."(on Ernest Hemingway
On the instant when we come to realize that tragedy is second-hand.
When I was a boy I first learned how much better water tastes when it has set a while in a cedar bucket. Warmish-cool, with a faint taste like the hot July wind in cedar trees smells. It has to set at...
She wouldn't say what we both knew. 'The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the...
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