It Is The Storytellers Task To Elicit

You Cannot Conceive, Nor Can I, Of The Appalling Strangeness Of The Mercy Of God.

If I Had To Choose Between Life In The Soviet Union And Life In The U. S. A. , I Would Certainly Choose The Soviet Union.

We Can Love With Our Minds, But Can We Love Only With Our Minds? Love Extends Itself All The Time, So That We Can Love Even With Our Senseless Nails: We Love Even With Our Clothes, So That A Sleeve Can Feel A Sleeve.

It Is The Same In Life: Sometimes It Is More Difficult To Make A Scene Than To Die.

Nobody Here Could Ever Talk About A Heaven On Earth. Heaven Remained Rigidly In Its Proper Place On The Other Side Of Death, And On This Side Flourished The Injustices, The Cruelties, The Meanness That Elsewhere People So Cleverly Hushed Up. Here You Could Love Human Beings Nearly As God Loved Them, Knowing The Worst: You Didn't Love A Pose, A Pretty Dress, A Sentiment Artfully Assumed.