Passion, You See, Can Be Destroyed By

What Use, After All, Is Man, If Not To Teach God His Lessons?

The Devil Isn't Made By What Mommy Says Or What Daddy Says. The Devil Is There.

I Was An Accomplice In My Own Frustration.

Worship Isn't Destructive, Martin. I Know That. I Don't. I Only Know It's The Core Of His Life. What Else Has He Got? He Can Hardly Read. He Knows No Physics Or Engineering To Make To World Real For Him. No Paintings To Show Him How Others Have Enjoyed It. No Music Except Television Jingles. No History Except Tales From A Desperate Mother. No Friends. Not One Kid To Give Him A Joke, Or Make Him Know Himself More Moderately. He's A Modern Citizen For Whom Society Doesn't Exist.

All My Wife Has Ever Taken From The Mediterranean - From That Whole Vast Intuitive Culture - Are Four Bottles Of Chianti To Make Into Lamps, And Two China Condiment Donkeys Labelled Sally And Peppy.