Life Is A Foreign Language; All Men

I Had A Million Questions To Ask God: But When I Met Him, They All Fled My Mind; And It Didn't Seem To Matter.

Everybody Thinks Of Others As Being Excessively Human, With All The Frailties And Crotchets Appertaining To That Curious Condition. But Each Of Us Also Seems To Regard Himself As Existing On A Detached Plane Of Observation, Exempt (save In Moments Of Avid Crisis) From The Strange Whims Of Humanity En Masse.

If You Have To Keep Reminding Yourself Of A Thing, Perhaps It Isn't So.

The Bicycle, The Bicycle Surely, Should Always Be The Vehicle Of Novelists And Poets.

Poetry Comes With Anger, Hunger And Dismay; It Does Not Often Visit Groups Of Citizens Sitting Down To Be Literary Together, And Would Appal Them If It Did.